Tiochfaidh ár Lá
by CrawfordsBiscuits
Summary: Erik is forced to have sex with Christine by paramilitaries who target the school he teaches at. This is the story of them coping afterwards... EC
1. Prologue: A Dire Situation

**Tiochfaidh ár Lá**

**Disclaimer: **Don't own POTO… There isn't anything really in-your-face offensive or explicitly controversial… Perhaps relatively touchy subject matter – but it was the only way I could think of that would sort of force Erik and Christine together – something I had been wanting to write for a while… so, it is rated M for such subject matter not because it's explicit in any way. This story is basically centred on Erik and Christine's ability to handle such a dire situation after it's over… this, after all, is just the prologue.

**A/N: **Chapter is undergoing some editing, and though it will remain up, a part of it has been cut out to change later.

**Prologue: A Dire Situation…**

Before today, Erik Wilkes was just a regular teacher with a regular teaching position – well, he was a bloody good teacher, at that – but he was a teacher, no less, and one of many who taught at a regular, if private, secondary school.

Before today, Christine Daaé was just a regular student in her last year of secondary school – the secret and unknowing love of Erik's life, at that – but she was a student, no less, and one of many who attended a regular, if private, secondary school.

There was nothing, however, that was regular about today…

Six men wearing black balaclavas and clutching semi-automatic weapons in their arms paced authoritatively up and down the length of the grand hall, frightening the life out of the six hundred or so students and teachers who were there that day. They had been there for around an hour already and every one of the teachers and pupils was beyond terrified. Many for very different reasons… one student, for instance, was scared that she would find herself on the wrong end of one of their guns, another was scared that she didn't know what they wanted, and another was scared that she would never see her parents again. Christine Daaé was scared that there would be a bloodbath in front of her eyes before the day was out. The music teacher and choirmaster, Erik Wilkes, was terrified that Christine would be harmed in some way. None of them, however, were aware of what exactly would transpire over the course of the next hour or so. Or that it would change forever the lives of Erik and his beloved Christine…

As four of the men went off to stand in a guard's stance by the two sets of double doors, the leader and his second stayed in the front of the room. The former leaned back and half-sat on one of the desks; the latter sat off to his side, trying to look menacing to some of the students nearest him. The leader was his brother and he trusted him more than anyone in the world – so, when he had told him that this would be a good idea and that they could get away without being caught, he had readily agreed.

* * *

"_Get down on the ground now!" a harsh voice shouted as he and another man, both decked out in black from head to toe, rushed into the room in the middle of a music class._

_Erik was baffled by the implausibility of the situation and turned to face his interrupters, quite sure this was all just a sick joke. "What on Earth are–" _

"_No questions," the first man growled, pointing what looked like a hunting rifle at Erik's chest. "All of you, get down on the ground now before you get yourselves killed."_

_Erik remembered the training… Evaluate the situation. Could the people be approached or controlled without the use of force? – No. How many individuals were involved? – Two that he knew of. What was their demeanour like? – Well, they were obviously rash. Was negotiation an option? – Not at the moment. _

**So, what next?** he asked himself. He was supposed to isolate the perpetrator from his pupils if he could. However, he didn't imagine that he would have any luck in asking the men to come to another location or if he attempted to dismiss his class. Then, he was supposed to secure the area they were in to prevent other students, staff, or visitors from entering. However, the two men with very large guns were standing between him and the door, so, he could do no such thing. Then he was supposed to evacuate the area – get everyone who could be safely removed from the area out as fast as possible. Unfortunately, though, that was not a possibility. That left him with one option… he got down on the ground next to his students.

If he didn't have the responsibility for the lives of twenty-seven teenagers lying with him, then he might have been more inclined to stand his ground. More importantly, if he did not have the responsibility for – or rather, the **urge to protect** – a certain young soprano with russet curls and big, childlike eyes from these men, then he would have certainly been less submissive. But, as it was, he knew he would have to remain calm and avoid escalating the situation's intensity.

"Right, we're going to do this slowly and nobody is going to try and play the hero, are they?" the first man asked, taking a glance around the whole room at all of the terrified students. "Good… now, I want everyone to make their way to grand hall downstairs. Before any of you try any stupid stunts, take into consideration that there are more of us around the building and that we're all armed. I'll go first and I'll be watching you all the way, just as my brother stays until last…"

_As the students followed his instructions, all scared out of their wits, Erik remained until the end so that he could check that all of his students had gotten out safely, grabbing Christine's hand before she went out the door to hold the sobbing girl against his chest, away from the armed man until they were the last ones left in the room. Then, he quickly pulled her through the door and in front of him so that he could keep her relatively safe for the time being. _

_When they got into the grand hall, they were confronted with another four armed men and an already almost full room of students and teachers, who were all subsequently ordered to relinquish their mobiles and anything that could be used as a weapon against the men. There went the last way of them getting help, then. Erik also noticed, with great resignation, that there were six of them, so, there was, therefore, little chance to negotiate. There was no way he'd be able to hold a conversation with these men and he would do nothing to endanger the young woman clinging to his arm desperately as they were ordered to sit where they were on the cold floor. He felt entirely useless… and he was about to feel a whole lot worse before the day was through. _

* * *

"No doubt, it'll be a while before those bastards get here to try to _diffuse_ the situation…" the leader said, finishing his unnecessary and unwanted explanatory speech to the people he was holding hostage. It would have been clear to anyone what their intentions were, so he might as well have just kept quiet. "Why don't we get some entertainment out of this, ourselves, boys?" he asked his comrades. 

"What did you have in mind?" his brother asked, turning towards him briefly.

"Might as well make some use out of them before we blow them up," he laughed, grating on the nerves of everyone in the room. "Sounds like a good idea to me…" He stood up from where he had been leaning against the table behind him and moved towards the other end of the room where everybody was sitting on the floor squashed up against each other in an effort to be as far away from the terrorists as possible. He looked amongst them all, staring at various people every few seconds in an effort to unnerve them.

The teachers were spread randomly throughout the students, having all just sat down as they were when they'd been forced to, and there were not nearly enough of them to have any real influence. Erik was, rather unsurprisingly, right next to Christine the whole time, never letting her out of his sight for a second – she was his first and foremost priority in all of this and he would not endanger her safety for anything… or any_one_ else. She clung to him desperately as he was the only adult close to her and he swore to himself that no physical harm would come to her while he was her guardian angel, whispering soothing words in her ear. She was such a delicate beauty and he knew she was terrified but he couldn't help having his thoughts drift to her nearness…

As the leader approached them purposefully, drawn by the starkness of the white mask, Erik placed his arm around Christine's waist in a subconscious effort to protect her, holding her against his chest.

"You – what do you teach?"

"Music…" Erik answered guardedly, bringing Christine closer.

"Do you have any favourite students?"

"No…" Erik lied.

"Not even that delicious creature in your lap? If she's not your favourite then you won't mind if she spends some time in the back room with me, will you?" He smiled wickedly when Erik refused to give her up. "I didn't think so… now, don't make me raise my gun to her – I'll ask you again – do you have a favourite?"

"Yes…" Erik said after a pause.

"And it's the girl sitting in your lap…?"

"Yes…"

"Tell me… do you have _sexual_ feelings for her?"

Erik was livid – if his first priority was not to protect his love, he would have gotten up and beaten the sick bastard into a pulp. "She is my student – I have no ill intentions towards her…"

"Lovely – but not what I asked you…"

Raoul was appalled. He had been trying to make his way along the floor, unnoticed, towards his girlfriend until that man had asked such ludicrous things of their teacher. Raoul was glad that Mr. Wilkes was there to protect her and he only hoped this line of questioning would not go any further, pausing where he was so that the man would not see him.

The leader got down on his knees on the floor beside Erik and Christine, pulling Christine's head back sharply by her hair and causing her to gasp in pain. He quickly placed a knife to her neck as she cried and watched as the students around them flinched and backed off further into the corner, Erik looking on almost heartbroken. "If I have to ask you everything twice, this girl will end up with a few more lines in her neck than she started with… Now, do you have sexual feelings towards her?"

Erik looked at the pained face of his beloved – her eyes tightly shut and her hand at her head trying to loosen the hold of the man behind her – and he almost broke into tears himself. This was a hell of a way for her to find out how he felt about her and he prayed that it would not totally ruin the chance of them ever having a relationship when she was no longer his student. "Yes," he whispered after a long pause, relieved when the hold on her was released. He brought her to his chest again and pressed her head back into his shoulder, rubbing where she had been hurt ever so gently. For her own part, Christine seemed not to be in tune with what they were saying. In fact, it was as though she hadn't heard them at all – she just clutched him tighter and cried into his offered shoulder.

Raoul, though, was in a state of shock… what the hell had Mr. Wilkes just said?

"Have you done anything with her? You had better tell me the truth first off this time…"

"No…"

"Do you want to?"

"Yes…" Erik admitted, ashamed, and quite aware that most everyone in the hall could hear him in the otherwise quiet room… not to mention, Christine, whose reaction to that meant everything to him and could very well lead to her never speaking to him again.

"Well, then perhaps I can help you…" he said, grinning wildly. "Don't look at me like that – don't you want to get laid? You'll have more sex than you've ever had in your life…"

He had absolutely no way of knowing how right he was – Erik had never so much as kissed a woman before, having been too insecure and reclusive a person to start a relationship. Besides, he had only just found the woman he loved and she was too young for them to be together yet…

"You've given me the best idea… Right then, _sir_, put the girl down and get up – we have a job for you… you're going to get to know _all_ of your female students a lot better in the next few hours. If you can last that long…" he laughed in a way that made Erik feel like vomiting and the rest of his class try to keep out of notice as far away from him as possible.

"Absolutely _not_…"

"Absolutely not – you won't last that long? Or, absolutely not – you won't do it?"

"I won't do it…"

"Really…? Then perhaps we'll have to find a way to make you more eager. You have two choices now – do nothing and my friends here will make use of every single one of these girls until the plods arrive… or you can take responsibility and sacrifice just one of these girls…"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"If you do a bit of the old 'how's your father' with one of your students then maybe we'll leave the rest of them alone…" he said, grinning wickedly.

"You're sick…"

"Perhaps… How about the lovely lass you already are attracted to – and I can see why, let me tell you that…" He smiled again as a further idea came to him and tapped the point of his knife thoughtfully against his trousers. "In fact, _yes_, I've changed my mind – either _you_ do her or _I_ will… so what's it going to be?"

Erik was disgusted – the bastard who was suggesting such a sickening idea had better be joking. There was no way in the world he was going to fornicate in front of all these people with an unwilling girl whom he happened to love. "You won't bloody _touch_ her," Erik scoffed, standing so that he could look down at the man before him. He kept Christine safely behind him and blocked her completely from the gunman's view.

"If you don't sit down, keep your trap shut and get on with it then I'll shoot you and do it myself," the leader said, irritated, finally raising the barrel of his gun in Erik's general direction.

Christine stood up behind Erik and spoke for the first time since they'd been taken hostage. "Sir, please…" Christine sobbed into his back, her hand grasping his sleeve. Her crying broke him again as he turned to her, embracing her tightly in his arms.

The leader violently pulled Christine away from her teacher and into the centre of the room by her hair. "Fine, then, you've made your choice – _I'll_ do it…"

Seeing her being handled so cruelly, Erik immediately changed his mind and wondered if he would be eating his words soon. "No, stop… I'll do it." He did not want his first time to be with anyone but Christine and he did not want hers to be with anyone but him – it was selfish, he knew, but he supposed she would rather that than be raped by an armed paramilitary who would not be as gentle with her as he would and would not love her as he did. He hoped to God that she would learn to forget and learn to forgive him – he would take no pleasure from her pain and would only do it to save her from the alternative.

"No!" Raoul shouted from his place on the floor, without thinking it through. He would not – _could_ not – let this travesty continue. This was _his_ girlfriend they were talking about – _his_ girlfriend that they were suggesting his teacher have sex with.

"Well, well, well…" the man said, amused. "It gets better… Who the hell are you?"

"I'm her boyfriend," he stated valiantly – perhaps more valiantly than was wise at the moment – as he got up from the floor to stand.

"Her boyfriend, hmm? Wonderful! Why don't you join us over here for an unobstructed view…"

"You can't–"

"Don't you dare tell me what I can't do," the man shouted, flinging Christine away from him and into Erik's chest as he approached Raoul. He grasped hold of the boy's head and raised the gun in front of him, having the desired effect of scaring him witless. Satisfied, he plonked Raoul down on the floor next to the still standing Erik and Christine, where the boy sat in a stunned and disgusted silence.

Just as Erik was reluctantly following Christine as she laid down on the cold floor, too afraid to move, he found himself freezing in panic when the leader started speaking again…

"Your mask," he laughed, "take it off."

"What?"

"Don't _you_ question _me_! I'm the one holding the gun, don't you forget it, and I want you to take the mask off."

Take his mask off…? He couldn't… they'd all scream, they'd be disgusted… he'd be humiliated in the most degrading way imaginable. The one thing about his life that he could not control would be put on display to be laughed at and he'd never get away from it. _Could_ never get away from it… What would Christine think of him? She'd be terrified, wouldn't she? Disgusted… she'd hate him. He couldn't put her through that… he'd rather die. "No."

"_What_?"

"I said, 'no', I won't do it."

"You don't seem to understand me," the man laughed humourlessly, shaking his head. "You don't have a choice. You _will_ take off your mask… 'cause, if you don't, I'll kill her," he stated seriously and to the point to provoke the most honest reaction from Erik.

Of course, he hesitated, but only as long as it took for the armed man to take one threatening step towards Christine, then he was driven by his inability to let his beloved be harmed because of his cowardliness and his shame. He tried to ignore all the people in the room and focused his attention solely on Christine, hoping against hope that she wouldn't scream. "Please, my love," he whispered. "Please, do not be frightened… you must know I would never hurt you."

Christine was terrified beyond belief, though not particularly because of him – in fact, he was all that was making her feel like she might just survive this ordeal. So, it was with great trepidation that she anticipated his next move. What was there to be scared of? Was he really so utterly hideous? She couldn't promise that she wouldn't be disgusted – she already was, in truth – but she could promise not to scream. She really didn't have it in her as it stood. She watched as he hesitantly reached his hand up to his face and paused a single moment more before pulling it away and bowing his head even as he kept staring right into Christine's eyes as she lay beneath him, needing her not to scream.

And she did not scream… and she was not scared – of _him_, anyway. But she _was_ regrettably and unavoidably shocked. And she, even as she warned herself to hide it, could do nothing but avert her eyes and hope that she had not offended him _too_ much.

For his own part, Erik sighed despairingly. She was so precious, his little angel, and she was trying so hard not to hurt him. _What a sweet, sweet child_, he mused. _How I do not wish to cause her any pain. She should not have to see me like this. She should be surrounded by the beauty she deserves._

"Alright, I'm bored now," the armed man commented from where he had been standing, watching. He was not particularly pleased with the girl's reaction, or lack thereof, and just wanted them to get on with it before he vomited at the hideous sight before him. "Do her or I'll make good of my promise."

Erik slowly brought himself and his beloved closer together, doing absolutely nothing until he could feel the barrel of a gun pressed into his lower back. "I won't make you do this…" he whispered in Christine's ear. "You can tell me to stop right now and I will…"

She shook her head fiercely and held close to him, closing her eyes in shame, even as she tried to block the image of his wretched face out of her mind. "No… I… I would rather you… than he…" She started crying again as Erik got on top of her but she tried her best not to let him see as she knew it would make him feel worse even though it wasn't his fault. He noticed, though, and was, naturally, unable to become aroused as the tears ran down her cheeks, unable as well because of the presence beside him. Thankfully, they were not expected to undress for the act – the gunmen apparently not forcing them to do it for any sexual enjoyment on their parts but merely to cause them utter humiliation – and it would work…

"For God sake, girl, don't be so frigid – help him…"

She was disgusted but did as she was told and he, while he did not want to feel any pleasure in her disgrace, could not help becoming aroused as he was touched for the first time in his life and by the woman he loved with all of his heart.

She cried harder as the act was started and, perhaps thankfully, due in part to the tenseness of the situation and Erik's total lack of experience, it did not last very long. She had managed to blank most of it out of her mind as she imagined singing in some grand opera house one day as the Prima Donna, loved by all… He nuzzled her neck in an effort to comfort her in even the tiniest possible way and felt relieved when she accepted his comfort by tightening her grasp on him. "I love you…" he whispered so only she could hear.

Afterwards and when their clothes were fully back into place between them and Erik had replaced his mask, he pulled himself off of her but held her close still as she buried her face in his shoulder to hide in shame. He stroked her back and brought her off of the cold floor into his lap as their captors laughed and the other teachers and students had their eyes averted from them in some semblance of disgust. Raoul especially was almost in tears. And Erik couldn't believe that the two of them had become one even for such a brief time but he had wished their first taste of intimacy might have been more romantic, to say the least… he had not wanted their first taste of intimacy together to be witnessed by all those other people, who were so unworthy to watch such a union. It was meant to be an experience for the two of them alone to remember… They hadn't even kissed – he was no longer a physical innocent but had still not had his first kiss… he felt rather disappointed in that.

Putting aside his own feelings, he knew that he would have his work cut out for him trying to not let Christine fall into utter despair and depression. He slid back slowly along the floor until his back touched the wall and he and Christine were as far away from the gunmen as possible, out of the central line of vision of everyone else too.

"If you get out of this with your lives, the police'll want to speak to you," one of the gunmen laughed. "You've just admitted to a room full of witnesses that you have sexual feelings for a student and you just fucked her… Not that it lasted very long…"

"Yeah, waste of time, wasn't it?" one of the others added.

"Not to worry, looks like it's time to _negotiate_…"

Erik was devastated… it could never be a waste of time for him. He despaired at the hard time ahead that would no doubt come… but he was unwilling to let this be the defining moment of their relationship.

© Copyright of CrawfordsBiscuits, November 2005


	2. Chapter 1: The Before Stage

**Tiochfaidh ár Lá**

**Disclaimer: **Don't own POTO or Nella Fantasia… This story is rated M for subject matter not because it's really explicit in any way.

Please read and review…

**Chapter 1: The Before Stage…**

**Several Hours Earlier…**

A young woman descended the stairs of her home – or rather, _house _– stopping briefly to place a reverent kiss on the portrait of her dear, late father. She then continued down the stairs and into the kitchen to make herself breakfast in the quiet peace of dawn before anyone else got up.

Christine Daaé led an unfortunate life. Her mother had died in childbirth and, almost three years ago now, her beloved father had joined her in Heaven. Having been only fourteen at the time and still in full-time education, she had been forced to move in with her aunt, uncle and cousins, who had, on her father's passing, felt obliged to take her. Now, three years on, she was still stuck there and, as it was, she did not get on well with any of them – her Aunt Rosalin, Uncle Henry and cousins, Beth, Cíara and William were little like the small but loving family she had been with her father… These people were distant and dysfunctional as a family, spending little time together doing things other than just watching the television, and they positively disapproved of every aspect of Christine's life – from her quiet, shy disposition to her total lack of knowledge in the activities of other young people her age.

Christine missed her music the most. Her father had so openly encouraged her musical talent and nurtured the beautiful voice she held within her throat but it was different here. This family was not musical in the slightest. Her cousins detested any sort of classical music and could not stand her singing… Rosalin and Henry steadfastly agreed. And so, she did not practise. Sometimes she would catch herself starting to sing as though in a trance when she thought of her dear father but her little indiscretion was rarely discovered.

Her aunt, uncle and cousins seemed under the impression that she was a rather dim child. She could not understand why – her reports were always good, she did not get bad grades and all of her teachers were very pleased with her – but that did not seem to dispel the belief in her 'family' that she was slow. Such was Christine's melancholy, though, that she did not care what they thought of her. Let them think her stupid – it was easier than having them know the truth. She'd far rather have their ignorance and their mild hatred than have their pity.

It was for all of these reasons that she was detached from them and spent a great deal of her time on her own in her room. It was for these reasons that she just got on with her chores and suffered the harsh words of her disillusioned aunt. And, it was for these reasons that she loved Erik Wilkes with a passion and tenderness she had never experienced before…

Her choirmaster and music teacher was the absolute opposite of the people she lived with… He was kind and encouraging, sure of her intelligence and invested in her talents, and he was utterly devoted to his music. He was a devastatingly interesting man with passionate pursuits and an unflinching interest in her. She felt, when he talked to her, that she was the only person in the world – she felt that she could do anything if only she had his approval… and it was with such approval that she flourished under his supervision in school. He kept her sane when all she could do was wish for the next day of school to roll around so that she could get out of her aunt's house. And she was aware that she just had a healthy affection for him – that it would no doubt pass in time – but she was quite happy to go along with it for as long as it took to finish her education. She did love him… she knew that she wouldn't always but she did love him now.

* * *

A dark-haired man started awake in his bed, reeling from some unknown cause as he bolted straight up into a sitting position. What had wakened him? He was not sure even as he was plagued with a terrible sense of foreboding. It was not uncommon for him to have such 'premonitions', if you will, but even from their frequency, he was never sure of their cause. Resigning himself to not knowing, he looked around vaguely, able to tell from the faint light filtering in around the sides of the curtains that it was dawn already and, with an exhausted sigh, he pulled himself out of the bed, going downstairs to find something to settle his hunger. 

Erik Wilkes led an unfortunate life. He had no family to speak of and few people he considered friends rather than professional acquaintances. In fact, he could count only two… The first was Jonty Whittaker – a colleague, who had befriended Erik on his first day working at the school even as the other teachers were wary of him. Jonty had become somewhat of a constant for Erik. He was always there, a reliable presence, and Erik used him as rather an influence to standardise his usually depressing moods. The second was Christine Daaé – a student, whom he had fallen in love with, needing no encouragement. He knew it was 'wrong' of him to be so in love with one of his students but he could not help his feelings for her and he had led such a loveless life that he would do nothing to quash his love for her now. Regrettably, he realised that he knew little about her life away from school and from him, and he wanted nothing more than to rectify that matter. He hoped with such a fervour that, one day, he would be able to start a relationship with her when she was old enough for them to be together. He knew he was fooling himself, but he could hope for nothing else.

She was such a witty child… so intelligent and quick-minded with such a talent for music and singing especially that he knew she could never be surpassed. Christine was also devastatingly beautiful and he was both pleased and appalled at turns that he could find her so attractive. However, there seemed to be another side to her character that he couldn't quite work out… She always seemed so melancholic and he could not find the reason why. He imagined that, with her beauty and talents, she would lead a charmed life, full of love and music… how he hoped she had such a life. But he did not know… no, he did not know, and he was determined to change that.

It was for all of these reasons that he was terribly and thoroughly in love with her. It was for these reasons that he spent as much of his class time with her as he could get away with. And, it was for these reasons that he, himself, felt loved even if only for a second… because he could see, when they shared music together, such a passion and tenderness in her eyes that he knew she had to love him if only for that one moment… and, for him, it was enough.

* * *

"I'm taking you out tonight," Christine's boyfriend announced as she opened her front door to him, a little while later that morning. She had just been cursing whomever would have the idiocy to ring the bell this early in the morning and possibly wake up the rest of the people in the house – something she dreaded each day. But, of course, she couldn't really hold it against him, she supposed… how was _he_ expected to know not to do that? 

"What, Raoul?" she asked him, confused.

"I'm taking you out to a restaurant tonight to treat you."

"Treat me for what…?"

"Why do I need a reason to treat my girlfriend?" he asked, smiling that faultless smile of his at her.

She couldn't stand how nice he was being to her and turned away to finish making her packed lunch. It unnerved her when people were so nice to her… she could handle them being difficult or haughty but she found it very hard to know what to do when they were friendly. How much she had changed in the last three years… "That's very sweet of you, Raoul."

"Nonsense… you deserve to be treated. Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?"

She picked her bag off of the table and put her lunch inside, pretending that she hadn't heard him. Thankfully, though, he seemed not to notice…

"So, you'll accompany me to dinner tonight?"

"Yes, Raoul, whatever you want." As lovely as Raoul was, Christine couldn't help thinking that she'd rather be in Music, listening to Mr. Wilkes play as he had been born to do. Still, she had to accept that he was a teacher and, for all intents and purposes, led averydifferent life…

He beamed at what she had said and nodded to himself, determined to show her how romantic he could be. "Smashing… come, let me walk you to school."

* * *

"What's wrong with _you_?" Jonty asked, coming to stand beside the tall, dark-haired man at the window. 

"Nothing bar the usual…" he sighed.

"You've been staring out there since you got in this morning."

"At least what I'm doing now is less harmful to the health of the people around me than what I'm thinking about doing," he stated, giving a pointed look to his colleague.

"Touché, Erik." He paused for a long moment and actually became quite irritated by Erik's unfailing ability to be still, though he was very used to it. So, he decided to try to snap him out of it. "Oh, look,one of your students is smashing your violin against a tree," he said suddenly.

"_What?_" Erik cried in surprise, appalled and sure he had misheard Jonty at the same time. He whirled his head around to face him and was confused to find that his colleague was smiling insolently at him.

"I though that'd get your attention…"

"It certainly did that, you bloody spanner," Erik grumbled, turning back to the window. "Don't you _ever_ say anything like that again." He had been having a bad feeling ever since he had gotten up that morning though he couldn't place its cause.

"… so I'll be away for most of the day."

"What?"

"Have you been listening to a word I've said?"

"No."

Jonty shook his head and sighed. There was no bearing with Erik… he only appeared to have two moods – difficult or _impossible_. Then, of course, Jonty had not seen how he was with a certain Miss Daaé. "I was just saying that I've got an appointment just before lunch and I'll be away most of the day… do you think you can manage on your own?"

"You are not joined at my hip, Jonty. I will not shrivel up and die if I don't see you for one afternoon."

"I didn't mean it like that…"

"I'm sure you didn't."

Quite abruptly, Erik straightened his posture, his head held slightly higher, his chin slightly more forward, his shoulders just that bit prouder – he looked positively regal… and Jonty was amazed. What had provoked this rapid change in him?

"I have to go now, Jonty. I'll see you later." And he whirled with such grace away from the window and out the door that Jonty wondered at what point in his life Erik had been a ballet dancer. He shook his head slowly, refusing to let his friend and colleague confuse him as he so usually did, and he turned to look out the window to see if could find what had made Erik so uncharacteristically upbeat. It was then, therefore, that he saw Christine Daaé sitting by herself on the wall, her feet dangling just off the ground, her face upturned towards the sun, a gentle smile upon her lips as she squinted peacefully in the sunlight… and it was then, as well, that Jonty saw Erik appear at her side, her head turning to meet his gaze as he gestured to the wall next to her. It was then that Jonty worked out exactly what was going on… and it was then that Jonty became very concerned indeed.

* * *

"May I sit here?" Erik asked, gesturing to the space on the wall beside his lovely student. She gave him a curious glance and finally nodded her head, adjusting her position so that she did not have her back to him. 

"Is something wrong?" she asked after a moment of silence.

"What do you mean?" Erik was confused. Why should there be anything wrong? He only wanted to partake in her company.

"I just thought… that there must be something terribly wrong if you had to tell me it before school has even started…"

"Nothing's wrong, really, my dear… I'm sorry I worried you."

"You didn't."

He looked at her curiously and tried to shrug away his confusion. Just as he was about to say something more, though, he was startled by a sudden and unexpected rendition of Vivaldi's _Winter_.

Christine shot him an apologetic look and reached into her pocket for her mobile, hoping that he wouldn't take it off of her for breaking the rules.

He shook his head almost imperceptibly and gave her his best attempt at a smile. "I understand… you are not in trouble. Go ahead, my dear, you may answer it."

She was surprised by his acceptance – usually, Erik Wilkes was the strictest teacher in the whole school and thought nothing of confiscating a student's mobile phone if they were caught with them on the grounds… but here he was, encouraging her to answer it, and it confused her terribly. Regardless, she flipped the phone open and spoke, "Hello? Oh, Ros, hi… I'm sorry, I must have forgotten to– Yes, I'm sorry, Ros, I di–" Erik had been listening to her side of the conversation, wrinkling his nose at the rudeness with which this Ros was cutting his angel off. "I'll do it when I get home, I promise… Yes, I know I said I'd do it then but– I'm not talking back to you…" she said hopelessly, sighing in resignation and laying her head in her hand. "Yes, I understand… I'll walk home. Bye…"

How he wanted to coddle her just then… how he wanted to pull his poor, unhappy darling into his arms and keep her there for eternity to protect her. She looked _so_ ready to cry and part of him very much hoped that she would so that he might have a valid reason to draw her against his chest and hold her. As it was, though, she simply got up and started walking.

* * *

"_Nella fantasia io vedo un mondo giusto…_" 

"Hello, Christine," Erik said hesitantly as he walked into his room after lunch and found her already there, playing about on his baby grand while singing softly to herself. He had never heard anything _more_ beautiful. He also hadn't seen her to talk to since she had walked away from him at the wall that morning, and registration hadn't provided him with the opportunity of anything more than marking her off the register before the bell had rung and all his students had disappeared off to their next classes.

"Oh, hello, sir," she replied, equally as hesitant, stopping what she had been doing.

"You don't have to stop… it was lovely."

"Well, thank you… I…" she trailed off and looked away from him, remaining silent. He had always had trouble trying to get her to play or sing on her own in front of him. He didn't know why anyone with so much beauty and talent would hide it all away from the world as she did.

"Perhaps, if I played the instrumental part, you would sing for me…"

"I don't think so…" she said, shaking her head and standing from the piano as she closed the lid.

"Why not?"

She counted herself very lucky that she did not have to answer as all her classmates filed into the room and noisily sat down, keeping a distance between her and her teacher.

Still, she was aware of the almost tender, confusedglances he gave her throughout the class, especially when everyone else had their heads down, doing the work he had given them. She was also aware of the almost replicated glances she, herself, was giving him for being so understanding. And, towards the end of the class, she was also vaguely aware of somebody violently banging the door open as he shouted.

"_Get down on the ground now!_"

© Copyright of CrawfordsBiscuits, November 2005


	3. Chapter 2: The After Stage

**Tiochfaidh ár Lá**

**Disclaimer: **Don't own POTO… This story is rated M for subject matter not because it's really explicit in any way.

Please read and review…

**Chapter 2: The After Stage…**

**Several Minutes After…**

He was running for their lives. He was running with her in his arms through a thick, suffocating cloud of smoke, not bothered even if his other students were behind him, still in the building. Let the other teachers deal with them… He could not afford to care until he had his beloved behind the protective safety of the police present outside. It was like he had tunnel vision as he ran with her, able to think about nothing but keeping her safe… other thought was a luxury he could not afford to dwell in yet. He held her face against his shoulder and kept on running even as he was coughing, straight towards the large rectangle of light filtering through the smoke, tripping on unseen objects as he went.

Breaking through into the dizzyingly bright sunlight, his lungs suddenly free to breathe in the clean air, his body was momentarily startled into a stumble as it tried to adjust to the sudden change. He was abruptly pulled by a pair of strong arms, vaguely aware that they belonged to one of two men crouched at either side of the doors, away from the building and towards another man, dressed the same, all in a black reinforced uniform with the sort of helmet that the Bank of England use for their transporters. The man then ran along the playground with him, his arm on Erik's back as he bent the three of them over, rushing them out through the gates and behind the armoured police cars to relative safety.

It was only then that Erik allowed himself to look back and see what had become of his place of work – the smoke billowing out through the doors, the armed police officers at either side, helping the disoriented students and teachers out as they appeared there, the utter relief that he and his beloved were no longer inside… It was only then that Erik turned and saw the swarm of press and hysterical families being held back by a police barricade just beyond the area he was in. It was only then that Erik allowed himself to look down at Christine's face, drawing her back from his shoulder so that he could make sure that she was alright, noticing the tears and the utter pain etched across her beautiful face. "Don't look at me," she cried, pushing against his chest until he allowed her to nestle back into his shoulder. And it was only then that he allowed his poor heart to break…

He was pulled again towards the bright flashing lights of an ambulance, in a haze even as the heavily armed officer pulled Christine out of his arms and ran with her towards another ambulance. He watched dazedly as she was transferred to a paramedic, who draped a metallic blanket over her shoulders and placed her on the step at the back of the ambulance. He watched even as the paramedic tried to get her to talk and he watched as Christine lifted her tear-soaked face to him, suddenly aware that he was watching her, though he was still being pulled away. And then he could watch no more… for she turned her head away in shame and hugged her knees to her chest, dismissing his tarnished presence from her sight as though he meant nothing. And so he did, he decided.

The man who had been pulling him barked something at him, though he had no idea what, and got behind him, forcefully pushing him the rest of the way to another ambulance where he was set on the step as the officer ran back to get some of the other hostages to safety. He was dimly aware of a blanket being placed around his shoulders and even less aware that he was being asked questions.

It was beginning to hit him – exactly what he had done. The shock was setting in and he started feeling decidedly dizzier. And so it was that, half a minute later, he fainted from shock into the grasp of the paramedic standing in front of him.

* * *

Crying… so much awful crying… Mr. Julian Lythgoe, consultant of the A&E department in Guildford, had never seen so much crying in all his life. While he had throughout his lengthy career had to give all manner of bad news to people, such as telling parents that their child had been too ill to save or telling a husband that his bride had just died from being hit by a drunk driver, he was somehow now – faced with the crying of the girl in the room in front of him – entirely unsure of how to approach her. He had never heard such pain expressed so openly in front of him before and he was at a loss… 

For one thing, he had never had to perform a female rape exam – that was something specific to _female_ doctors and _female _nurses… that was _their_ territory. But, the terrorist incident in the school had left more than just the A&E Department – the whole hospital, in fact – understaffed and filled to capacity. Not to mention, there was a time limit unfortunately set on these sorts of things and the exam would have to happen soon if it were to be valuable evidence later. Not long enough to transfer her to a proper clinic for this sort of thing for a number of reasons. He'd been told by the paramedics who brought her in that it had been several hours since the incident before she and the others got out of there. So, it was left up to him. He had a job to do and it would not be easy…

"Christine?" he asked timidly, approaching her from the front so that he wouldn't startle her. "Christine, I'm Julian and I need to examine you. The nurse tells me that you won't change into your gown…"

"Stay away from me," she whispered, momentarily pausing in her crying to do so.

"Christine, I'm sorry but there are no other doctors available – female or otherwise… and I know you won't want to hear this right now but it's best we collect the… the _evidence_ as soon as possible after the… just after," he finished, mentally kicking himself for being so stupid. Why was it that he could be perfectly clinical and professional with male victims but he could barely say the word in front of this poor creature? _Perhaps because of her age_, he mused. She did not look much older than his own daughter and he cringed at the thought of anything like this ever happening to her.

"You aren't coming anywhere near me."

He had absolutely no idea how to calm her down after what she had been through and he knew she would likely not trust him, but he had to get on with it. "Look, sweetheart, I know you're upset but, a week or so down the line, when you've had a chance to think, you might regret not having scientific proof of what happened so that the trial process will be easier on you. You'll need, well, you'll need the samples we take today…"

"I don't understand," she cried, almost hiccoughing as she curled herself into a ball. "I don't understand… _Scientific proof_…? There… there are six _hundred_ witnesses!"

He paused for a moment, looking in sadness at her closed eyes, then he started to speak again, hoping blindly that his voice was as soft as it could be, hoping as well that it would not break. "Yes, I know, but they cannot prove which one of the men committed this particular crime."

"_What_? What do you mean? _Everybody_," she sobbed, "everybody knows who did it. It wasn't his fault – he didn't mean to hurt me… he didn't commit _any _crime. But he's been dragged into this too and I… I can't even say I was… I can't even say that I was _raped _– because I wasn't… because he didn't. And you have _no idea_ what _that's_ like!"

"I don't understand," Julian repeated, shaking his head to try to dispel his confusion.

"No, you don't. And you never will. They made him do it… they _forced_ him. I didn't want anyone to get hurt… I told him it was alright," she cried, turning her head away.

"Who did, sweetheart? Who forced whom to do what?"

"The gunmen… the gunmen forced him… my teacher to… to…"

"It's alright, Christine. _Christ_," he said suddenly, giving into a moment of emotion, "I am _so _sorry. Look, it might be a while but I'll get one of the female nurses check you for any injuries soon instead of me. Would you prefer that?" he asked gently, pleased as she nodded. "I'm afraid that the police will want to speak to you eventually, Christine, but not until you're ready, alright?"

_The things people do_… he mused sadly as he headed off to his next patient.

* * *

"Where is she?" Erik asked urgently as he shot upright in the hospital bed, suddenly and startlingly wide awake. His hand was still fiercely clutching the wrist of the nurse standing beside him as he pulled her hand away from his face and checked that his mask was still in place. For whatever reason, he found that nobody had yet been so bold as to remove it. 

"Calm down, Mr. Wilkes," the over-rushed nurse scolded, pushing back on his shoulders.

He wouldn't let himself be moved, however, and pushed the nurse away. "No, I want to see her, where is she? Where's Christine?"

"You just lie back down, Mr. Wilkes, and I'll see if I can find Christine for you… is she your wife?"

"No," he mused sadly. "She must be here… she's my student. The paramedic… the paramedic took her off me… Tell me where she is…"

"Christine Daaé?"

"Yes."

"Oh. _Oh_…" Her tone was worrying Erik terribly and he was just about ready to get up and find Christine himself when the nurse spoke again. "I'm afraid she's not up to having any visitors just yet…"

"Look, I'm aware of what she has been through, of course I am, but I _have_ to see her – I have to," he protested. "Tell me where she is."

"I'm sorry, I can't tell you anything but the consultant will be round as soon as he can and you can ask him then…"

"No, I need to see her _now_." He clutched the front of the nurse's uniform so tightly in his hands and looked into her eyes so fervently that she found herself relenting even against her well-honed better judgment.

"Alright… I'll see what I can do. She's in with the doctor now but I'll take you in when they're finished."

So relieved, he let go of her and collapsed back against the pillows, allowing his exhaustion to consume him for the time being. The nurse smiled faintly and moved out of his cubicle, turning to draw the curtain shut when she realised that someone was standing right beside her.

"Can I help you?"

"Erik Wilkes. I'm looking for Erik Wilkes."

"Seems like you've got a visitor," she said, before turning again and leaving them to it.

* * *

"Hello, Christine, I'm Nina," the uniformed police officer said as she slowly sat down in the chair near her bed. "Would you like to tell me what happened?" 

"No."

"I know you're upset, Christine, but I think you've been very brave so far. The doctor told me how impressed he was with you. Perhaps it would help you to talk about it…"

"Please leave me alone." She was done crying now… she would not cry now. She was numb and she just wanted to be on her own. She couldn't even bear to be around anyone. If it weren't for the fact that she was exhausted and frightened, she would have discharged herself by now. Why did they have to keep bothering her? Why couldn't they leave her alone? Were they so unaccountably stupid that they couldn't understand her need to not be around them? She had so much to think about and all she wanted was time alone to do so and to cry and to… grieve.

"Are your family here yet? I should talk to your parents…"

Christine sobbed quietly just the once and wondered just how much training this woman had had in being sensitive. "_Please_, leave me alone."

"Christine, I know this is difficult but–" She was cut off as Christine pressed the button on the headboard to call the nurse.

"I want to be on my own, please," she told the nurse who appeared shortly after, turning onto her side so that her back was to them even as the policewoman told her that she would be back later for a proper statement. _Oh, Christine_, she scolded herself, _polite until the end… _Pulling the blankets up around her neck and curling into a ball there on her side, she did not notice as someone else came into the room behind her, once again disturbing her sanctuary…

"Hello, Christine."

She sighed. Would she be forever condemned to another's company? She could think of only one person she would want around her… He would make her forget, he would sing and it would be gone… And even as he was a large part of her grief, she could not help but think that he could make it all go away. She wanted to be around him and yet she did not want him to see her as she was… weak and broken – certainly someone he would pity. Perhaps he would rather forget too – perhaps he would rather not be around her so that he wouldn't have to look at her. Perhaps he would find her disgusting now… She was dirty now, after all, wasn't she? Not literally, of course… but she was still unclean, wasn't she? She thought so. And he would too, wouldn't he? Dirty and used… she was unworthy of him now. He would think so. And she didn't blame him…

"I'm Hannah… Mr. Lythgoe called me and told me that you might need a social worker for a while. I've heard what you've been through…"

Had anybody _not_ heard 'what she'd been through'? Oh, God, what would they think of her? Her friends, her teachers, her 'family', _Raoul_… He wouldn't want to be anywhere near her, would he? He'd look at her and all he'd be able to see was what happened, wouldn't he? She truly was disgusting, she thought, beginning to cry again even as she did not want the social worker to see it. Her life was over…

"Are your parents aware of what has happened?"

* * *

"The trouble you get yourself into…" 

"Don't, Jonty," Erik sighed, still lying against the pillows. He brought his hand up and rubbed it tensely across his forehead even as it was partially covered by the mask. "This is too serious…"

"I know." He bowed his head. Making light of a situation was never a good idea with Erik but he could think of little else to do. "I got here as soon I heard… Well, actually, I got to the school as soon as I heard and then I realised you must be here." There was a long pause as he contemplated what he was about to say to his best friend. "Raoul… told me what happened… what they made you do…"

"Raoul?" Erik asked, suddenly curious, quickly locking eyes with Jonty. As much as he didn't like the boy for being Christine's boyfriend, he still would never have wished what happened today on him. It would probably haunt him for the rest of his life, what he had seen happen to his girlfriend… but Erik couldn't care right now. Christine was his priority. What had happened to her was more serious, more painful… _less_ fixable.

"Yes… he's terribly distraught, Erik."

"_He's_ terribly distraught? Think how _Christine _feels! It is _her_ I care about." He wondered vaguely if Raoul would be enough of a man to stand by Christine through it all. At turns, he both wanted the boy to stay away and wanted him to have the guts to be strong for her through the hard time ahead.

"Erik," he started, only to be cut off as his friend's eyes were suddenly drawn away from him, his gaze moving rapidly from one side of the partially open curtain to the other, just over Jonty's shoulder. And then he was up and off the bed, running through the curtains and out of the cubicle before Jonty could even think to stop him.

© Copyright of CrawfordsBiscuits, January 2006

This is just the beginning… please leave a review to inspire me. Oh, and Erik is _not_ wearing a hospital gown before you all tell me how he wouldn't get up and run out of A&E with his backside showing… what a lovely thought.

Thanks again to **Ripper…**


	4. Chapter 3: The Calm Before the Storm

**Tiochfaidh ár Lá**

**Disclaimer: **Don't own POTO… This story is rated M for such subject matter not because it's really explicit in any way.

Please read and review…

**Chapter 3: The Calm Before the Storm…**

"_Erik," he started, only to be cut off as his friend's eyes were suddenly drawn away from him, his gaze moving rapidly from one side of the partially open curtain to the other, just over Jonty's shoulder. And then he was up and off the bed, running through the curtains and out of the cubicle before Jonty could even think to stop him._

Disregarding the wave of dizziness that washed over him at his sudden movement, he made light work of running between the great many people moving around the A&E, barely recognising that some of them were distraught parents and colleagues. He kept on running straight towards the entrance, without pause, as he neared what had caught his eye a mere moment ago. "Christine," he called softly, unwilling to startle her by being too loud. "My angel."

She whirled around as she got outside into the dark and backed away from him as he approached, looking entirely terrified there, shivering in the thin hospital gown and continuing to cry. "Don't look at me."

"Sweetheart, you'll freeze. Come here…" Erik implored her, reaching his hands out. It hurt him so very much to see his little angel so upset. What had happened to make her run out here? Had someone hurt her? If they'd touched her, he'd…

"Don't look at me," she cried, a little more loudly.

"Christine, what's wrong?" _What exactly do you **think** is wrong, you complete twat?_ he admonished himself for sounding so incredibly dense. "Come here, you know I'd never hurt you…" He swallowed thickly as he considered the last thing he'd said to be a lie. He already had hurt her, hadn't he? And in the worst possible way…

"Don't look at me!"

He glanced between her and his outstretched arms for a moment, contemplating exactly what she'd said to him… and he cringed. He'd been ignoring her – ignoring her wishes even when she'd asked him… He was the very worst sort of monster, he was sure, disregarding her needs even after all she had suffered. He looked at her tightly clenched fists, the way her arms were raised protectively against her chest, and the almost desperate look in her lovely eyes… and he did as she asked, turning quickly so that he was no longer looking at her. "I'm not looking, Christine, I swear. Please, _please_, come back inside."

"No. I can't."

"Did they do something to you, my darling? Did they hurt you? I vow that I'll protect you if you'll only let me near you…"

"Why can't you just leave me alone? Why can't you all just leave me alone?" she cried as she sunk down to her knees on the ground, too exhausted and too upset to stay standing.

Chancing a look behind himself, Erik glanced over his shoulder at her and immediately moved to her side, quickly removing the coat he was somehow still wearing. As he placed it gently upon her shoulders and wrapped it around her, he neglected to notice her staring up at the people who had just gathered around them. He was so intent on warming her, in fact, that he helped her up, bringing her to nestle into his shoulder as she had done much earlier. "You're safe… you're safe," he murmured into her hair, hoping against hope that she would believe him.

"Keep them away from me."

"Who, my angel?" he asked even as he became aware of the presence of his oldest friend, a uniformed police officer, a nurse, and another woman he did not recognise, right in front of them.

"Christine, come back inside, there are things we have to discuss," the unidentified woman said, bringing her hand up in a way that was not entirely dissimilar to Erik's when he had asked her to do the same.

"Sir?" Christine murmured into his shoulder, her head turned ever so slightly so that she could keep her eyes on the woman near them.

He kept his hand against the small of her back, pressing her firmly into his side as he felt a protective urge he could not positively name. "Call me Erik, sweetheart, I mean it. Now, what is it? What can I do?"

"Keep them away from me. I don't want them near me. I want to be on my own."

"Alright… I'll… alright."

"Christine, we still have to do some tests," the nurse added, hoping the poor girl would come back to her senses.

Erik shook his head briefly, turning his body slightly so that she was more under his arm and out of their view. "You cannot force her to remain if she does not wish to. Jonty," he called, turning his gaze to his friend, "your keys."

"Erik, no… how can you even suggest that? You can't leave with her! Think what'll happen! What will people say?"

"I couldn't care less, Jonty, and if you do not give me your keys, I will merely call a cab. You are achieving nothing by refusing me – except of course putting Christine in the uncomfortable extra presence of a taxi driver. Would you have that on your conscience?"

Jonty shook his head and sighed, giving in. There was no winning with Erik, only degrees of losing… "Where are you taking her?" he asked as he threw his car keys over.

Erik deftly caught them with his other hand and drew Christine all the tighter against himself. "Wherever she wants to go… you understand that I have to do this, don't you?"

"Yes," he nodded, though he did not.

"Sir, please reconsider," the policewoman started. "We need her statement as part of the investigation."

"No," he hissed back, narrowing his eyes at her. "What _she_ needs is to be away from you and away from this place… what she _needs_ is to be alone. And I shall give her that."

He had lifted her into his arms and whirled away from the group before they had had a chance to protest. And it was not long before he was placing her reverently in the passenger seat of his friend's car, then getting in the driver's side himself. And it was not long again before he began driving around almost aimlessly on the dark back roads, keeping a light piano concerto on the CD player to try to soothe her. He remembered she liked piano music… he remembered a lot when it came to her.

It was longer, though, before Christine's aunt turned up at the hospital to take her home and the commotion of the day calmed somewhat… enough for the staff in the A&E Department to realise that two of their patients were missing, and who exactly Christine had left with… it was not long thereafter, in fact, that the police were alerted.

* * *

Several hours before it came to that, however… 

"Take me home."

Erik quickly glanced to his left at her, surprised by her sudden command. She had been so quiet – so silent – his Christine, that he had wondered if she had fallen asleep there in the passenger seat, looking out the window at the dark night outside. He almost hoped she _had_ fallen asleep… it would have made things so much easier on her, at least for the time being. But, she was wide awake and staring at him with a clarity in those intensely lovely blue eyes which almost unnerved him. In actual fact, she seemed to be staring off somewhere below his chin… but he was too surprised to notice that and he continued driving for a moment before he considered what she had said. "You're sure? You want to go home? If it is what you wish, my darling, then I shall do so… but I would need you to tell me where it is that you live, child, for I do not know."

"Not my house," she said firmly, shaking her head, entrancing him as her beautiful russet curls shimmered in the moonlight from their movement. "Take me to _your_ home."

Again, he took a moment to glance at her in shock, thoroughly unsure of anything anymore. She seemed quite serious however, even as she sat there in a hospital gown and his large, heavy coat, her legs tucked underneath herself on the seat and her arms crossed over her chest beneath the coat. So precious he thought she looked at that moment that he almost forgot what he had been contemplating. "_My_ home?"

"Please…"

She had asked him and so he could not deny her. He continued on until the next roundabout so they could turn and head back into Guildford on their way to his home. He had often fantasised about taking her home with him one day, usually when he was in his depressive moods, and he would dream that she would look upon his house and declare that she never wanted to leave. He regularly wondered what it would be like to go home to her in the evenings, rewarded with the same perfect smile and perhaps some sort of brief physical display of affection between them. Not that he had any idea how couples interacted – but he assumed that she might be inclined to present him with the honour of a kiss upon his return if he treated her very well indeed – just like the princess she was. And, oh, he _would_ treat her well… she'd be so happy and he would rejoice that he alone had achieved that with her.

What he had never imagined, of course, was that he would be taking her home with him from the hospital… after she had been held hostage… and had been forced to have sex with him… and had had so many awful things happen to her… He had never imagined that and he had never wished it. She deserved better. But, somehow, she had still requested that he take her to his home and he was very hopeful that she would like it there for whatever brief time period she decided to use it as her sanctuary. In fact, he hoped she _would_ come to think of it as her refuge… somewhere she was always welcome, somewhere she could go to hide from the rest of the world if she ever wanted to, with someone always pleased to see her, someone who would lay the universe at her feet if she only asked it of him… somewhere she could drown in the beauty of his music and never again have to think that anything bad could ever happen… somewhere she was loved.

"You're sure?" he asked once again just as he parked his friend's car in the drive of his home.

Without saying anything, she merely nodded and moved to open the car door before he placed his hand on her arm to stop her. She recoiled with such ferocity and pressed herself back into the seat, away from him, that he withdrew his hand immediately and placed it behind his back, cursing himself for being so stupid and hoping that she knew he would not harm her, all at the same time. "I am so sorry. Please, forgive me… I only meant that I would come and help you out – your feet are bare, after all, and I won't have you freezing."

She shrank back into the seat again and bowed her head, waiting for him to get out and come around. What had she been thinking, jumping like that? He was a dearheart, bless him… having been so kind and so thoughtful towards her. She probably disgusted him but yet he had done everything she had asked of him… he had been so gentle with her when he could have just let the man have her, he had kept everyone away from her, taking her away from the hospital so that she could be alone, he had been the only one to understand that she did not want him looking at her, and here he was, helping her into his own home… protecting her when he should want nothing more than to shun her. He was perfect, she concluded… if Raoul was even a fraction of the man he was then she would have nothing to worry about, she was sure of it. If she could help it, she would never do anything to make this man uncomfortable again, she vowed. She would never allow him to regret helping her. He did not deserve that.

"What do you need, sweetheart?" he asked as got her inside the house, locking the door behind them so that she might feel secure. "You can go anywhere you wish in here, Christine; I have nothing to hide from you… you're always welcome. Would you like me to leave you alone? Or perhaps you are hungry? Tired, maybe…?"

"I need a shower."

"Oh, of course, I… I had not thought of that, I'm sorry." He somehow found himself leading her up to his own bedroom and en suite, unable to deny himself the urge to have her use things he had used. "Darling, the towels on the radiator are fresh – you can use all or any of them. And I'll leave some more on the bed. I promise I will not invade your privacy in these rooms for as long as you need it. You're safe."

She nodded, remaining silent and keeping her back to him as he left the bathroom, closing the door over. Before he left completely, however, he spoke one final thought to her, surprising her, "It hurts me that you can't even look me in the eye anymore." And he was gone, the door firmly shut behind him.

She was disgusted with him, he was sure. That was why she didn't want to look at him anymore… but he could not dwell on that now. She needed him and he would be there for her for as long as she wanted. He went to his walk-in wardrobe, heading straight to a place near the back where he kept a long garment bag containing something he had had made such a long time ago. He took the long cream, beautiful nightgown delicately out of the bag and held it reverently to his chest, imagining her in it, before he placed it on the end of the bed next to the extra towels and stroked his hand along it one last time. She would finally wear it – the nightgown he had designed specifically for her – and she would look amazing. He only hoped she found it to her tastes. He believed she would. Smiling gently, he left the room and wandered down the stairs to await her when she was ready to come down.

Christine, meanwhile, stood under the cleansing, hot spray of the shower. She found, much to her dismay, that she could not get herself clean. She scrubbed and scrubbed, but she still felt absolutely filthy. And the feeling would not go away… it clung to her much as fervently as the feeling of guilt. She could not explain it – it was _beyond_ explanation really – why she felt guilty when she had done nothing wrong. But she felt this intense, overwhelming feeling that it was all her fault and, much as she tried, she could not get rid of it.

The skin of her arms was turning red now, her hands scrubbing, scraping… the nails raking across the delicate flesh, making it burn – making it hurt as the blood rushed to the surface in a number of tiny pinprick-like wounds, flushing the skin a bright, bright red. But it was not enough… she could still feel it – whatever _it_ was – and she would not be satisfied until she was numb, completely and utterly numb. And so, she continued… her tears mixing with the water spraying down upon her face so that she couldn't decipher which was which and her hands carried on scrubbing – across her stomach and thighs, as much of her back as she could reach, over her calves and even her delicate little feet.

The heat was making it worse – it made her skin flush more, made it hurt, made it itch even… and the more she itched, the more she scratched, the more it hurt. But it was not enough – it would _never _be enough – and she turned the heat up until it was almost scalding her… until, at last, she felt she was not _so _dirty. She was not _so _unclean… she was filthy, she was sure – but she not _so_ much so. And that pleased her, for just a moment, enough for her to allow herself to get out of the shower and take one of the large, heated, fluffy towels down from the radiator, wrapping it around herself. It was so warm and so soft that she feared she might just fall asleep where she stood… but she continued on, out of the bathroom and into the large bedroom her dear host had bade her use.

The sudden change in the consistency of the air startled her, shocked her into shivering as she allowed the cold to seep in. It was not so much cold as it was _colder_ than the scalding, wet heat of the bathroom… and it hurt. But she didn't care – so long as it hurt, she knew she'd done all she could; she knew she'd done everything in her control… and control was the most important thing in the world to her at that moment.

As an afterthought, she stepped back into the en suite and turned the temperature control down on the shower so that, should her host ever decide to take a shower without paying attention to the controls, then he would not be scalded. It was beyond her how she could be so considerate when all she wanted to do was scream and shout and cry and break things all at once, but it was not expected of her – poor, mild Christine… too polite, too _shy _to show any fierce emotions – and she hated it.

Fingering the beautiful, soft nightgown that she had just discovered upon the covers of the bed, she realised that there had only ever been one person who had thought her capable of such intense emotions… and he was no doubt sitting downstairs, waiting for her to appear. He was so considerate, so lovely… She picked up the delicate fabric of the nightgown and slipped it on, marvelling at how soft it was against her tender skin before she made sure to throw the hospital gown in the bin under the bureau and hope that she'd never have to see one again.

Finally, she placed her host's coat over her shoulders again, partly comforted by its weight and partly to hide her flushed arms he was sure to see if he were to come upstairs without her knowledge. She was so exhausted now that she could finally rest and she wasted no time in climbing under the covers, pulling them up around herself so that she was enveloped in the warmth of both his coat and his duvet.

She felt so different now… she felt changed. Yesterday she'd been normal – _unhappy_, but normal, all the same, and now she was… a freak, a filthy, sordid freak. She didn't even know who she was anymore and neither would anybody else. She was sure they would look at her and find something missing, something so irretrievably altered that they would look at her differently but not know why. Would _he _look at her differently? she wondered. Would Mr. Wilkes ever again be able to think of her as something other than what had happened to her? She hoped so; she didn't think she could bear it otherwise. In amidst her musings, it was not terribly long thereafter that she fell into unconsciousness, just before there was a knock at the door…

© Copyright of CrawfordsBiscuits, February 2006


	5. Chapter 4: Danger of Chinese Whispers

**Tiochfaidh ár Lá**

**Disclaimer: **Don't own POTO… This story is rated M for such subject matter not because it's really explicit in any way.

Please read and review…

**Chapter 4: The Danger of Chinese Whispers…**

"Darling?" Erik called softly, knocking again before he entered his room – the room he had given her on a whim a couple of hours before and still did not regret now. He found her sleeping ever so peacefully, at least he hoped so, lying on her side in the middle of the large bed, her beautiful still-wet curls spread out haphazardly around her. She was gorgeous, so he thought, and he couldn't believe she was here, lying in _his_ bed, still, it seemed, wrapped in _his _coat. He was convinced she looked like an angel lying there, so small beneath the heavy covers.

Sitting down on the edge of the bed that she was facing, he drew his knuckles reverently down her cheek and over her lips, smiling so stupidly that he couldn't help it. "Oh, darling… this is all my fault. How I wish I could make it all better – make everything go away… I'm so sorry. _Oh_," he gasped, his voice suddenly choked with emotion as unaccountable tears gathered in his eyes. He placed his hand once more upon her delicate cheekbone and stroked his thumb across her lips. He'd never even kissed her before, he mused. But she was _so_ beautiful.

Finally deciding to leave her to sleep, he left her a sentiment of his affection upon the pillow and whispered into the quiet of the room an emotion he was entirely unable to hold in… "I love you."

Sighing exhaustedly, Erik found himself just getting downstairs in time to hear a loud knock at the front doors. "Jonty," he said, surprised though he did not show it. He pulled the door open fully and reluctantly allowed his friend in.

"Are you _stupid_?" Jonty hissed, pushing Erik back into the sitting room. "Do you have any idea how idiotic this is? They won't understand – they'll presume and they'll assume and they'll blame…"

"What are you going on about now, Jonty?" Erik asked indifferently as he found a place to sit in his favourite armchair. "And keep your bloody voice down, Christine is resting."

"You're blinded by your feelings, aren't you? I _know_ about you and Christine, Erik – I _know_ how you feel about her… did you think I wouldn't notice? _Christ_, it was so obvious seeing you with her! _You are in love with her, for God's sake!_"

Erik remained silent, staring coldly up at his friend. He did not like being judged by anyone… and Jonty, of all people, should definitely know better.

"Are you listening to me? Erik, you're going to get into so much trouble for this, do you have any idea? Do you even care?"

* * *

Alerting the police to Christine's disappearance from the hospital had unfortunately been like playing Chinese whispers with a bunch of children. Somehow, from the full and complete explanation the consultant at the hospital had given to the desk clerk at the police station merely because he was concerned that she receive the tests she had missed, it had gotten round to one of the senior police officers in charge of the terrorism investigation that Christine, a victim of the school incident, had been kidnapped from the hospital by her rapist. It would have been beyond anyone how the message could have changed so drastically as it was relayed – yes, it _would_ have been beyond anyone _had they known_. 

But, as it was, the entire investigation team were put on full alert and sent out to find the pair of them. And, of course, with a warrant for his arrest and, as they believed they were dealing with a minor's abduction, they were given the permission to use any force necessary to bring him in. Unfortunately, as well, all the commotion of the previous morning had not quite gone and things would remain misunderstood for one night at least.

Meanwhile, Rosalin was absolutely furious as she stood in the family room of the A&E department and was informed that her niece had somehow disappeared with some stranger without anybody realising that he was not a relative there to collect her. Ros was not overly fond of her niece, by any means, but she was family and family did not just let family go missing without kicking up a fuss. She could not find it within herself to be terribly upset, to be sure, but she put on a blinder of a performance as the stereotypical distressed relative and Mr. Julian Lythgoe found that it would be his job to calm her down.

"Please, madam, I know you are upset and I cannot apologise enough… it is a travesty that she was allowed to leave without discharging herself but my staff assures me that she left with that man willingly."

"And what sort of frame of mind would you _expect_ her to be in after what happened at that school? It's not like Chrissie – she wouldn't accept a lift from a strange man!"

"Madam, again, I can only apologise," he started, instantly disliking the woman before him. He found himself thinking that, if she were _his_ guardian, he might have left home and joined the armed services before he'd ever gotten to Christine's age. "But I do believe she knew this man…"

"_Knew_ him? How did she know him?"

_Careful, Julian… _"I believe he is her teacher, madam…"

"Her teacher…? Then why did she leave with him?"

"Forgive me, madam, but I expect it was because they can both relate to each other's pain, if you will."

"I don't understand. What do you mean?"

"I'm afraid I cannot discuss your niece's treatment with you."

"But I'm her guardian!" Ros protested heatedly.

"Regardless, Christine is over sixteen and therefore regarded as an adult. I would need her permission to tell you… and she is not here to give it." _Still_, he thought sadly, _it would not be long before exactly what had happened in that school would become common knowledge for the whole of Guildford, if not Great Britain… especially with the imminent trial._ _Poor, poor, Christine…_

* * *

Erik's attention was immediately drawn away from his friend and colleague as he heard an enormous bang. Jonty, for his own part, almost jumped at the sudden noise. Realising quickly that it had come from somewhere near the front door, Erik got up out of the armchair and shared a glance with Jonty. Just as suddenly as before, it happened again… but, this time, what they heard was the sound of the heavy door splintering, a rush of loud footsteps stomping into his home and then, not for the first time that day, Erik found himself looking down the barrel of a gun. 

"Erik Wilkes?" the owner of the gun asked as he stood in front of Erik, head-to-toe in a black reinforced police uniform and helmet. More than a dozen identical officers already making their way around his home… and all he could think about was Christine and what this intrusion would do to her.

"No," Jonty said, surprising Erik once again as he turned to look at him curiously. "_I'm_ Erik Wilkes."

The armed policeman suddenly was gone from in front of Erik and stood next to Jonty. "Erik Wilkes, I am arresting you on suspicion of the rape, abduction and false imprisonment of Christine Daaé. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you fail to mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say will be given in evidence. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

Erik stared at the two of them in bewilderment until, as the policeman was escorting his friend out, Jonty stood heavily on his foot. "I'm giving you some time," he whispered, Erik moving with him for a moment so that he could hear. "Use it… for, as soon as they ask me to confirm my name, they're going to know I'm not you." Then they were gone, Jonty being led away to one of the police cars outside. And Erik promptly disappeared from sight, not about to let one of these men arrest _him_ too when his angel needed him.

"She isn't here," another officer called down the stairs to his superior as Erik took a different route up to his Christine. Obviously, at what the officer had said, Erik was terribly confused… of course she was here… she was resting upstairs – sleeping in _his _bed, wearing the nightgown _he_ had had made for her… and he was sure that was where he would find her.

Alas, he was wrong…

He made his way upstairs less imperceptibly, pushing passed the intruders in his home, hoping that they had not upset his Christine too greatly, hoping she would settle again.

But there was nothing on first inspection he could find in his room to betray that she had _ever_ been in his home, had ever slept in his bed, in fact. There was nothing he could find that indicated she hadn't been just a figment of his overtired imagination. Until, of course, he noticed the small, folded piece of light blue writing paper lying on his bed. How she loved the colour blue, he was unable to keep himself from remembering sentimentally. And upon the thick weave of the writing paper, in her delicate, perfect handwriting, she had left him no indication of why she had left or where she had gone. She did not mention the house or the shower, the nightgown or the room… she did not mention the rose he had left upon her – _his_ – pillow for her to find upon her waking, though it was now gone. She did not mention how she was feeling. She did not mention her plans or anything about the day that had gone before. She did not mention needing his help or needing to be alone. She did not mention much of anything really…

And as the intruders flittered about behind him, he read the words she had left him. One little sentiment… one moment's thought… one unexpected, desperately needed assurance… All that she had said was merely, "I don't blame you."

And it had meant the world to him.

* * *

She'd been walking for ages now… Waking to find that rose upon her pillow had been too much – he was too sweet… she didn't deserve it. And she'd fled without him noticing, unable to leave the rose behind, wearing only the beautiful nightgown he had given her and the warm coat she had taken possession of. Her feet were bare and freezing but she couldn't find the energy to care… she just wanted to leave – to go somewhere she would be more suited to… somewhere she would not feel as though she did not belong. 

She had noticed earlier, when he had driven her to his home, that he did not live far from a wooded area she knew all to well. And it was there that she was now, walking in amongst the trees towards the clearing she was sure to find. It was very dark now and really, she thought, she should be terrified… but how could she be scared when the worst thing that could ever have happened to her _had_ happened to her? There was nothing to be scared of – and that was a highly freeing thought… but it did not heal anything. She would be forever changed.

Upon reaching the clearing in the woods that she had been anticipating, she paused for a moment in silent contemplation, awed by the feelings that were rising within her once again… most predominantly, a feeling of belonging. It had been so long since she had been to this old chapel in the woods… it had only recently stopped functioning as a church – the priest having died and the bishop having decided he was not to be replaced. But this was where her parents were – in the old but beautiful cemetery behind the old but beautiful chapel in the old but beautiful woods. And it was about time she visited them… It would be the first time in at least a year since she'd stopped coming – since the priest had died and she had been too afraid to go by herself into the no longer lit outskirts of the forest… Of course, it did not bother her now.

Moving like a wraith through the rows upon rows of headstones, the sky, as though in sync with her, cried raindrops down upon the forgotten sanctuary. Tiny, shapeless tears falling so fittingly upon the neglected ground and upon her upturned face, mixing with tears of her own… She headed directly to the plot she knew contained her dear mother and father in their eternal rest. She thought it was oddly appropriate then that she too would find her longest sleep by their sides. She was so glad Mr. Wilkes had agreed to take her to his home now for it had led her here and she was so grateful. So, it was next to her dear beloved mother and father that she laid down to die, prepared and ready. And she might just have been able to fool herself that she was happy with that – that she had had enough of a life… but there was someone who might just have disagreed with that had he known where she was at that very moment. Regardless, in her upset and distress, she had decided – _this_ was where she belonged…

Lying spread out upon the gravesite, she did not notice as the sky that had, only moments ago, sent tiny teardrops down to empathise with her now shot down a horde of ice cold raindrops, drenching and freezing her oblivious form, unwittingly helping in her quest to find unending peace. And she took out her lovely white rose – the rose _he _had given her – and raised it to her face, stroking its softness against her nose before she placed one final kiss upon its petals.

© Copyright of CrawfordsBiscuits, February 2006


	6. Chapter 5: Still Without Kisses

**Tiochfaidh ár Lá**

**Disclaimer: **Don't own POTO… This story is rated M for such subject matter not because it's really explicit in any way.

**A/N: **Thank you very much to my lovely reviewers. Also, **Mominator** brought it to my attention that some of you might not know what A&E means, so I though I'd clear it up. A&E is short for Accident and Emergency department. Sometimes, we also call it Casualty. And don't worry, **Pertie**, I _am_ taking this somewhere – it will all make sense in the end. There is always hope.

Please read and review… oh, please, I'd be so happy - it's my birthday on Saturday and I do so love getting your reviews. Might just inspire me to update something tomorrow, as well... 'nough said. I don't know if I'll manage to update much next week because I'll be in London for most of the week - still, I might manage on Monday or Friday. Go on, inspire me...

**Chapter 5: Still Without Kisses…**

When he'd found her, her lips were already tinged a worrying blue and her skin was paler than it had ever been. He had been confused when he had walked into the clearing, eyes momentarily unbelieving of the sight before him… somewhere he did not know existed and would not have found had his Christine not wandered off. She'd been missing for quite a while now – and so had he if he were to admit it – Jonty had gone to police station for him and he'd used the time to try and find his angel. It had been a fluke, in fact, that he'd headed in the right direction when he'd slipped out of his house through the back – he had been all for going the other way – but then he had noticed something that he very well could have missed – a little footprint, barely noticeable, imprinted in flowerbed she would have had to cross had she gone that way… and he had followed that little footprint – so dainty and unmistakable that it could not very well belong to anyone else in his own back garden.

And he had continued on in that direction, not straying from the straight line he was walking in for if his Christine had been there, he knew her well enough to know that she would be scared of getting lost and she would not ever change direction. Then, quite a long while later, he had come upon the clearing with the old church and cemetery… It confused him greatly why a cemetery would be out here in the middle of nowhere… but it did not surprise him at all, however, that Christine would come somewhere like this. It was so much like her, in fact – a little hidden and secretive but no less beautiful, a little quiet but sublime, all the same. Of course, he wondered how she had come to know of this place… but he recovered himself from his confusion and set about looking for his beloved again, scanning his eyes across the area even as raindrops pelted down upon his head.

That was when he had seen her – a little unnoticeable in the dark, her body covered in his black coat, her dark hair covering her face – but he had seen her all the same. He saw her precious pale feet, luminous in the moonlight, unexpected and confusing until his brain had allowed him to see her properly… saving her life for the second time that night.

And then he was running… running to her side, dropping and kneeling next to her as he turned her over in the rain and watched the raindrops fall upon her, almost kissing her. He was devastated. She looked as though she very well could be dead already – and he would not allow that – they had come too far, she had made him too happy, he loved her too much… He would save her – there was no other option – he _would _save her… that was all he could do.

He afforded a glance at the headstone behind her as he picked her up into his arms, the delicate white rose in her hand falling unheeded back to the gravesite. And he saw the names upon the headstone – he at last made the connection… His poor, poor darling angel – they were dead… and he had not known. Her parents were dead and he had not even suspected. Oh, his poor girl, he would look after her so much better from now on, he vowed. He'd been remiss in caring for her and she had been suffering alone. But he could not worry about that now…

Deciding instantly that she would not survive if he were to carry her all the way back to his home, he headed straight for the church with her, kicking the sacristy door until it opened for him. Then he carried her inside, laying her down upon an old sofa he found in the back. He was dreadfully aware that she was suffering from hypothermia now and he set to work, pulling a pile of old robes and blankets out of the wardrobe so that he could cover her. But there was something else he found himself almost hesitating to do first…

Her clothes were wet and they were going to kill her if he left them on… but he was also very well aware that, before she had changed into the nightgown he had left her, all she had been wearing was a hospital gown. She would be naked… for the first time in his life he would see the object of his affections without her clothes on and it would only be because she would freeze otherwise.

Not allowing that preoccupied thought to continue, he quickly sat down next to her and began removing the nightgown from her body, sure in the knowledge that this would be the only time he would ever have such a privilege. Finally, he threw the sodden clothes away from her and relieved himself of his own wet clothes as he got onto the sofa beside and partially beneath her, bringing her to rest limply on his chest as he brought the blankets up over them both, even covering their heads. In her current state, her body was very much unable to reheat itself and he knew that his own body heat was the only way of helping her, so he tried to ignore all the thoughts going through his mind at this new experience and just do what was best for her. It was an odd feeling – having someone lying naked on top of him, while he, himself, was sadly missing clothes… but his sole aim was for her body heat to replenish itself. Still, he thanked God that she was not awake to notice…

"Sir?" Christine asked groggily, her eyes refusing to open. But somehow she knew it was him – knew he was there with her, his presence comforting.

"Yes, precious, I'm here and I believe I've already told you to call me Erik… but don't you worry, I will make you better." He kept both hands pressed firmly on her back, her head tucked beneath his chin, and hugged her against himself. He couldn't help thinking how beautiful she had looked when he'd undressed her. He had tried to avert his eyes but, even now, he could still see her – and she was absolutely gorgeous. How he wished the circumstances were different though. And how difficult he found suppressing the urge to kiss her… he _always_ wanted to kiss her. Even in the awkward situation they found themselves in, he still wished that he could have his first kiss with her.

"_So… s-so c-cold_," she stuttered, shivering uncontrollably on top of him.

"I know, little one."

"I'm tired… Daddy? Where are we?" she asked confusedly, a few moments later. She didn't really remember anything and she did not know who she was with anymore. Oh, she was so tired.

* * *

"What do you mean you still don't know where she is?" Ros demanded of the two police officers in her living room. It was finally the morning after the incident in the school and Christine had been missing for many hours. With the arrival of morning, however, also came the truth… 

"Madam, I'm afraid that there was a drastic misunderstanding between the hospital and the police station when your niece's disappearance was reported. We have since cleared up the confusion and have come to the conclusion that she was _not_ abducted."

"How can you say that?"

"The hospital's CCTV shows quite clearly that Christine left with the man willingly. There is nothing we can do," the female police officer said, spreading her hands out in front of her.

"Even if it looks like she left with him willingly, what sort of state of mind do you think she'd be in to do so, hmm? She's obviously not thinking clearly…"

"I'm sorry, madam, but the consultant at the hospital did not find her state of mind questionable – and she is an adult by law… there is nothing we can do," the male police officer repeated.

"But after what happened at the school… she's not fit to make that decision!"

"Madam, your niece's rape is–"

"_Rape_?"

* * *

"How did you find me?" 

"I know you too well, my dear," Erik replied, still hugging her tightly to his body. It had been a couple of hours since he'd found her and she had finally warmed to a temperature that he approved of.

"I don't even know _myself_ anymore…"

"Precious," he sighed thoughtfully, stroking a thumb across her shoulder blade. "I know you are hurting, but you have to come back with me."

Suddenly, she leaned herself up on her elbows upon his chest, looking down at his face angrily. "I don't _have_ to do anything. I have a choice."

"Of course," he said softly, rubbing her upper arms to try to calm her. "I am sorry. I would never force you to do anything."

"I _always_ have a choice," she confirmed, looking down into his eyes until she saw that he believed her. "_Always_…"

"Yes. But you must realise that you will have to go home eventually… you have been gone for a whole night." Unconsciously, he found his eyes flicking down to the place where their chests met – so unaccustomed to the sensation of another person was he – and he regretted it fervently for that was the precise moment that she realised she was now naked.

"_What did you do_?" she shrieked shrilly, jumping up from the sofa with the robes still wrapped around her as she hurriedly backed away from him.

"Christine, I swear I have not touched you! I'd _never_ take advantage of you! You were suffering from hypothermia…" He quickly moved into a sitting position and covered himself, still unsure of letting her see him – they may have already technically had sex and technically also spent a night together, but he was sure that it would not go down well in her fragile state if he were just to strut around unclothed in front of her.

"Then where are my clothes? Where are _yours_? I can't believe you'vedone this! I thought… I thought you were different! You were so sweet – you even said you _loved_ me so that I would feel better!"

"Christine–"

"Was once not enough, hmm? Did you want to humiliate me again? I _hate _you! _I hate you!_" she cried desperately, bolting out of the sacristy door and into the clear, unforgiving light of morning as tears one hundred times more painful fell from her eyes..

"Christine!"

By the time he had replaced his still uncomfortably damp trousers and coat, collecting her nightgown as he could not bear to leave it behind and squinting as he stepped out into the light, she had run from his view and had, this time, left no sign behind her to betray in which direction she had gone.

* * *

"And you haven't seen her since yesterday morning, then?" Raoul asked agitatedly. He was ashamed of himself – it had taken him so long to work up the courage to go and see her – and while one night might not have seemed like much to an outsider considering what he had had to witness, he knew that Christine would never forgive him… What she had gone through had been much worse and while he would still have to learn to come to terms with what had happened, he still regretted not supporting his girlfriend when she had needed him. But he would make it up to her, he vowed, after all, he loved Christine and he intended to spend the rest of his life with her – it would be a long, hard journey for them until they could get back to some semblance of regularity… but they would make it. Of that he was sure. 

"We've already told you, Raoul – we haven't heard from her since yesterday, before school," Christine's uncle, Henry, told him again, exasperated. They – Raoul, Henry, Ros, and Christine's three cousins, William, Beth and Cíara – were all standing around in their living room, having had their breakfast interrupted by a frantic Raoul. He had gone to the hospital first, sure that she would be there and had been informed by an indifferent receptionist that she was not listed as a patient. Then, much against his parents wishes as they were just glad that their son was safe and well and never wanted to let him out of their sight again, he had gone to her home and found her oddly absent.

"And you've no idea who she left with?"

"The doctor at the hospital said it might be her teacher…" Ros answered, spreading her hands out in front of herself.

"Her teacher…? As in, _Mr. Wilkes_, her teacher?" He was furious – how could she be allowed to leave with him? With the man who had done… _that_ to her… She would _never_ have left with him willingly, he was sure of it. He'd taken advantage of the situation, the godforsaken scoundrel, and she had been too naïve and too pure to see it. Oh, his poor Christine… He was going to find her and then – then, he was going to make sure that Erik Wilkes knew exactly where Christine's heart and the rest of her lay.

Ros and Henry looked at each other and then shrugged. They didn't know – they hadn't asked. If they were to be terribly truthful, it would probably be easier not having Christine live with them… they were prepared to stick it out until she was finished her education because she was there niece, after all, but they would not mourn her leaving earlier. Still, that was not to say they didn't feel sorry for her – for what she had gone through… but that wasn't _their_ fault.

"Do you have any idea what he did to her?" Raoul shouted, angered by their indifference. But there was something else that held their attention more than his raised voice and he spun around to look at the object over his shoulder that they were so intently staring at.

"Christine…" he whispered, immediately moving towards her. "I'm so sorry you had to hear that, my love, but I was so worried for you. Where have you been?"

She stepped back noticeably as he approached her and averted her eyes from his. She couldn't bear to have him looking at her – seeing what had happened, seeing nothing but that… she could think of little else herself. She couldn't say anything… she couldn't tell him that she'd gone home with Mr. Wilkes and had taken comfort from him. She couldn't tell him that she had run off because she thought she didn't deserve his kindness. She couldn't tell him that she'd been ready to die there in the woods, next to her parents. And she couldn't tell him who'd found her, who'd stopped her – who'd sacrificed his own dignity just so she'd survive… she couldn't tell him how ungrateful she'd been…. or how comfortable lying with him had been. She couldn't tell Raoul any of that. So she said nothing.

"_What_ are you wearing?" he asked without meaning to and regretted it as she recoiled, offended. It had just occurred to him that she seemed to be wearing bright red priest's vestments and it was absolutely surreal. But his comment had hurt her and, looking between the faces of her 'family' and Raoul, she couldn't bear their staring anymore.

Her uncle wouldn't even look at her anymore, so embarrassed was he by what he obviously already knew had happened to her, and that disgusted her. She had hated when people wouldn't stop looking at her earlier, but now – _now_ she was not even worthy enough to be looked at it seemed – and that hurt her more. Her aunt and cousins were staring at her expectantly – _pityingly_ – and that made her feel sick. She didn't need their pity – she didn't _want _their pity. She wanted to be somewhere she would not be remembered for what had happened to her… somewhere that people who had previously disliked her would not suddenly pretend to be civil. She did not want to be somewhere that nobody would raise a word to her… where people would end conversations if she came into the room because, of course, it was not right for them to be normal if she wasn't, was it? She did not want to be Christine – the girl who was _sort of_ raped. She wanted to be Christine – somebody's daughter, one day somebody's wife, one day somebody's mother… She just wanted to be Christine.

But it was obvious that they wouldn't let her… and she resented them for it.

It was becoming apparent to her that none of them were able to meet her eyes. They had all looked away. At least, she thought, that her uncle had been honest in his revulsion – outward from the very beginning… but the rest of them – they were all liars and she hated them.

Taking one final glance at each of them individually, she flew passed Raoul and up the stairs into her room.

© Copyright of CrawfordsBiscuits, February 2006

More next chapter... Please leave a review...

Thanks again, **Ripper**.


	7. Chapter 6: Sorry Seems the Easiest Word

**Tiochfaidh ár Lá**

**Disclaimer: **Don't own POTO… This story is rated M for such subject matter not because it's really explicit in any way.

**A/N: **Thank you all so very much – especially thanks to everyone who wished me a happy birthday almost three weeks ago now. Now, I shall explain my absence – as I said before, I was away for a week in London, but, when I got back, I got a particularly nasty bout of flu and am only just getting better now.

And, quite a while back, I got a request from a very lovely reviewer who asked me if she could do some illustrations for this phic. They're fabulous and done by **Ripper**.

**Erik**: http/ www. deviantart. com/ view/ 29973944/

**Erik 2**: http/ www. deviantart. com/ view/ 30288681/

Please read and review…

**Chapter 6: Sorry Seems to be the Easiest Word…**

"Christine," Raoul said softly as he entered her bedroom. He had given her some time to change so that she would not have to remain in the vestments and she could not describe how wonderful it felt to be back in her own clothes again. Not the beautifully intricate detail and softness of the nightgown she had worn not so long ago, not the oversized vibrant red of the priest's vestments, not even her overly starched pristine uniform either – but the average, everyday clothes that could make her look – if not _feel_ – so ordinary.

"Christine, I'm sorry… that was totally insensitive of me. I apologise. Will you tell me where you've been?" he asked, sitting down in the chair across from her bed, where she was sitting with her knees drawn up to her chest. She remained silent and Raoul shook his head sadly. "I was so worried for you – your aunt told me that you'd left with some man… I thought–"

"So worried that you spent all night by my side in hospital? So worried that you held my hand in the ambulance and sat with me while they asked me all those _awful_, private, personal things? So worried that you told me that it wasn't my fault before you left so that I might just not feel so guilty?" she accused, tears building in her eyes even as she fought them back.

He bowed his head in shame and wished ever so fervently that this would be easier than it was. He didn't know why he had expected it to be any different really… he should have been there to support her. "I'm sorry…"

"So am I…"

"Christine… what I saw – it… I had to get my head together before I could see you again," he finished finally.

"Oh, I see… you have to build yourself up to see me. Well, if that's how you–"

"Christine, I swear that is not what I meant. This has been so difficult already – you have no idea what that did to me seeing you and–"

"How dare you?" she shrieked suddenly. "How dare you think about yourself? Have you any idea at all what _I_ feel like? Do you? _I_ feel like I am dead inside!" she shouted. She did not know why she was being so vocal or why she was taking it out on Raoul – surely he did not deserve her anger – but he was the only one around and she had to let it out somehow or it would kill her. The guilt, the anger, the helplessness… she didn't want any of it. It was eating her from the inside out.

"Oh, Christine, I know you're upset," he replied, distressed that she was so obviously hurting. And he moved over to the bed, sitting next to her, with the very real intention of bringing her into his arms for a hug.

Flinching away, she hopped off of the bed and stood by the window, looking out but nor really seeing anything. "I don't want you to touch me, Raoul… please leave."

"Christine… what he did to you was… was… _unforgivable_. But don't push away everyone who truly cares for you…"

"Leave, Raoul."

"I still want to look after you," he started, giving it one final attempt for the day. "I know you're upset with me but I still want to be your boyfriend…"

"I can't think about something as trivial as _that_ now, Raoul," she replied cruelly. "Leave."

She was still staring out of the window, her arms folded across her chest when she heard him leave her room and the door click shut behind him. And it was only then that she allowed herself to cry, breaking down into tears upon her window seat as her legs gave out beneath her.

"Don't cry, precious."

Her head whirled around to face the presence she was so sure had not been there before and found it oddly comforting that he was standing there at the foot of her bed, drenched to the bone, it appeared.

"How did you get passed my aunt?"

"There is no one else in the house, Christine…" he replied softly, moving to kneel in front of her on the floor.

"Oh." Why was she surprised? She had created an uncomfortable situation and obviously they had left without a word so that they could put off dealing with her. Sadly, she turned her head back to look out the window and sighed.

"Do not be disappointed, my dear, they do not deserve you. So," he continued when she did not say anything. "The boy has shown he is a man… he has decided to stand by you, I see. I'm glad – you _should_ have someone to care for you."

"I don't need somebody to mind me," she said defensively, giving him a determined look which only made him even prouder of her and of how strong she was, even though she could not see it herself.

He smiled, shaking his head sadly. "No, you need somebody to love you. _Unswervingly_." _**I** love you… can you not see it, precious?_

"And you think Raoul will do that?" she asked.

"You do not?"

"I think he'd try… but I don't suppose I find the idea of a boyfriend much appealing at the minute…"

"No, of course," he agreed, moving up off of his knees and onto the window seat beside her when he was almost sure that she would not move away. "I'm sorry."

"What for?"

"A great many things… I'm sorry that I could not protect you. I'm sorry that I made you feel uncomfortable. I'm sorry that I made you feel used… that I made you feel humiliated… that you believe I have taken advantage of you… Mostly, I am sorry that you are hurting so very much. And I am very sorry about your parents…"

"I can't believe you just said that," Christine started, shocked at how he, of all people, had the courage.

"Forgive me, it was insensitive…"

"No," she said, shaking her head. "It was a relief… You are the first person to say that to me… the first person ever to tell me that they were sorry. Not even… not even at his funeral did anyone say how sorry they were. It was as though they didn't care…" Tapering off, for a moment Erik was not sure if she was even aware of him anymore until she shook her head again, turning back to him as the glassy look in her eyes disappeared. "You have no idea how much I have wanted someone – _anyone at all_, for it did not matter who– to be sorry, to feel the utter _regret_ that I feel at their deaths even enough to apologise… And you have been the only one." Moving forward hesitantly, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him towards her, hugging him so tightly that he was having just a bit of difficulty breathing. But he would not say a word of that – he would never say anything to stop her from touching him.

"My dear, you are most welcome," he murmured, rubbing her back tenderly, more out of instinct than any prior experience with soothing someone whom, it seemed, had only just started to grieve. "There is something else, though," he began, unsure if it was the right time to bring it up. "I need you to know that I did not take advantage of you in the church… I didn't touch you, I swear."

She trembled beneath his hand, shivering unconsciously at something else she was so ashamed of. Here, sitting with him – being _held _by him – she did not know how she could ever have thought so badly of him and she wondered if it, now, wasn't just something that was entirely peculiar to _her_… to suddenly see all the bad in people before she saw the good – to give no one the benefit of the doubt – and to accuse, insinuate and blame before she would ever believe the truth. It frightened her that she could be so cynical. It was so unlike her. "I know… I'm sorry I accused you."

"Let us not talk of it anymore," he shushed, bringing her head against his shoulder as was becoming a habit and placed both of his palms splayed out upon her back.

Christine, meanwhile, was confused… Why was it that she could only let him, of all people, touch her when she could not let her own boyfriend? What made _him_ so special? Perhaps because he seemed to understand…

"What'll I do?" she whispered into his shoulder after they had been sitting like that for a substantial period of time.

"We'll get through this together, sweetheart, I promise… We will look back on this one day, years from now, and be glad that we did not let what _they _did to us become the making of us." Sure in his resolve, he nodded, entirely missing the fact that he had just implied that they would still be together in some form, years from now. "I'll take care of you, my darling, I swear… but I want you to promise me that you'll go to the doctor's surgery or the hospital and get the tests done that they were going to do yesterday – I do not want to take any chances with you… let us make sure that you are alright." He reached over and pulled a blanket from her bed, wrapping it around her shoulders as he continued to hug her, hoping that she would see the support he was offering her and would use it.

"You should have just let me die," she commented sourly. "Everything would have been so much easier…"

"No, it would not have," he countered adamantly, pushing her back so that he could look at her. "I would be heartbroken."

Looking up until she met his eyes, she stared at him intently, trying to work out exactly what he had meant. He was so confusing… how could he say things like that and just mean them… need no explanations whatsoever? "I just want to feel normal again – I just want to be average," she admitted.

"Why would _you _want to be average? My dear, other people spend their whole lives trying to be like you – trying to be _extraordinary_ – while you, little one, were born that way… Don't long to be average – don't ever imagine that you _could_ be – for you are sublime, Christine, and there is no getting away from that."

"Forgive me," she said nervously after a long moment of semi-comfortable silence. "It's not that I want to move – but you are getting me all wet." And she laughed for the first time in such a long while, making him so happy to hear it.

"Oh, forgive me, my dear… When I found out where it was that you lived, I did not stop to change my sodden clothes…"

"It's alright, it's my fault, really. Come, I'll get you something dry to change into." Going into her walk-in wardrobe, Christine then came back out with a smart pair of black trousers, a crisp white shirt, a waistcoat she somehow found herself thinking would suit him amazingly, and a long coat. "I hope these will tide you over."

"Oh, yes, indeed," he agreed heartily. "Your uncle has very good taste."

"They are my father's… _were_ my father's."

"Of course, I'm sorry. I should have realised with them being in your wardrobe," he said, the smile slipping from his face. "Are you sure you want me to wear them? If it would upset you, I'd rather just remain in my own clothes."

"You can change behind the screen," she continued, pointing to the corner of the room before she retook her seat at the window.

* * *

Later, after Erik had returned to find his home in a mess and his front door absolutely ruined, he also found Jonty sitting in his kitchen, looking quite depressed. 

"You don't have any milk left," he said informatively as Erik approached him.

Erik looked at Jonty strangely and shook his head as he removed the coat Christine had allowed him to borrow, draping it over the back of a chair. "Yes, I do – it's in the fridge door."

"No, you don't understand – you don't have any milk left," he repeated.

"What did you do, go on a lactose binge?"

"You know I can't take my coffee black… and what was I supposed to do while you were gone for so long?"

"Did you try going home?"

Ignoring him, Jonty got up from the chair he was sitting in and looked at his friend properly for the first time that day. "Where did you get that waistcoat?"

"They're Christine's," Erik answered, looking down at the clothes he was wearing.

Now, it was Jonty's turn to look at his friend strangely, and he sighed. _Nothing is ever straightforward with that man…_

"So what was the damage?" Erik asked finally, referring to what had happened at the police station.

"I got a figurative slap on the wrists and was told never to do it again," he replied sourly.

"Mmm, and I am sure you were quaking in your little silk booties, weren't you, Jonty?"

"Quite. They said that they still want to speak to you, though – they will not arrest you, _again_, because of the CCTV footage but they would like it if you went to see them… preferably with Christine there to clear a few things up."

"I'll bear that in mind… But thank you, Jonty, I really appreciate what you did, you know. It was because of you that I got to Christine in time… if I'd been a moment later she might have… she might not be here anymore and I don't know what I'd have done if she–"

"What are you talking about?"

"She was…" Erik started, but, thinking about his angel again, he realised that he would never be prepared to betray her confidence even to his oldest friend. Christine may have been prepared to join her parents in her grief but that would remain between them for as long as she wished it. Nobody else knew about it… And they would not hear it from him. "Nothing… Just, thank you." he finished, earning another strange look from Jonty.

"So you got things sorted out with Christine then?"

"Yes. I believe she might just recover from this… it will take me time to set her some routine – but I will dedicate all of myself to that aim. At the very least, she will know that she is loved."

"You _are_ in love with her, aren't you?"

There really was no point in lying, was there? Jonty would not believe him. "Yes," he answered truthfully, eager for the rest of his life to progress quickly so that he might start rebuilding and strengthening the relationship he had with his angel and so that he might not be quite so alone from now on.

© Copyright of CrawfordsBiscuits, February 2006

Since I'm not feeling well, this is the only story I've been able to update today - but I hope to post another update of something tomorrow. Leave me reviews to _ispire_ me and, as ever, feel free to pester me.


	8. Chapter 7: I Just Want You

**Tiochfaidh ár Lá**

**Disclaimer: **Don't own POTO… This story is rated M for such subject matter not because it's really explicit.

**A/N: **Have a look at the following… they're by **Ripper **and I particularly like them.

**Jonty: **http/ www. deviantart. com/ view/ 30174307/

**Jonty's Time: **http/ www. deviantart. com/ view/ 30221449/

Please read and review…

**Chapter 7: I Just Want _You_…**

"Chrissie," Ros started, meaning to reprimand, walking into her niece's bedroom uninvited when she, her husband and children had gotten back to the house. Christine hated when people called her that, she absolutely loathed the false pet-name her aunt had coined for her when she'd been forced to move in with them. At first, she had been angry that anyone would dare call her that when her dear father had obviously named her Christine. But, after time and being subjected to it scores of times, she had learned to accept it, or, at least, to ignore it. "It was inconsiderate of you not to tell us where you were last night."

Sighing wretchedly, Christine did not move from her place sitting on the window seat, staring out at nothing.

"Are you listening to me?" Ros asked sharply when she did not receive the apologetic answer she was expecting from her mild niece.

But Christine was in a decidedly sour mood at present. She had just recently progressed from crying wretchedly, curled up in a little ball, to a desperate, dizzying fit of un-erupted anger. "To be honest, _Ros_, I'd really rather not have to, if you don't mind," she answered with uncharacteristic cheek, still not turning to face her.

"_What_ did you say? You _know_ I do not tolerate disobedience in my house. You cannot use what happened to get your own way."

"How can you say that? It happened two days ago – just _two days ago _– I was forced to _fornicate_ like an animal with my own teacher in front of all of the people in the school. _He_ has been the only one to care… and you are supposed to be my family. You haven't even said _one_ kind word to me! Well, God forsake the bloody lot of you. I don't need any of you!"

And, moving swiftly from a state of intense anger to ill-thought-out defiance, she rashly pushed passed her aunt and ran down the stairs, carrying nothing with her but what she already had on her person at that precise instant in time, which left her with little choice in where to go. Thus, in the soft light of early morning, she found herself heading to the only place she could truly find refuge – to the only man who could begin the slow and difficult process of making her feel better.

That used to be her father's job alone – his _right_ even – to be the only person in Christine Daaé's world who could make bad dreams disappear and her Aunt Ros seem like the type of person one could only ever meet in fairytales. So, it was with no small amount of guilt that she found herself bypassing him, his grave, and heading directly towards a very different man, whose extreme and unflinching compassion for her had already ensured that she would never hold anyone higher in her esteem. He was so kind – so patient… she just hoped her turning up at his door like this would not lead him to become tired of her. How she hoped he would not be annoyed that she'd come…

Her musings were interrupted, however, when she arrived at his house and, walking up the drive, noticed that there was something undeniably wrong with his door. She had not been able to tell precisely what it was that had caught her eye until she was about two feet away and could see the extent of the damage. It was ruined… obviously as a result of being forced open violently and, when she had regained her wits about her, she became terrified that something horrible had happened to her teacher.

Pushing the splintered door open hesitantly, scared to death that there was an intruder inside or some awful scene she was about to witness, she was urged on only by the stronger feeling inside her to find what had become of her dear teacher. She didn't know what she'd do if he were hurt…

She'd already had enough drama and suspense to last her several lifetimes over but she forced herself onwards for the sake of the man who, himself, had shown her no small amount of compassion in all of the time that she had known him. Creeping slowly passed the staircase, she was not yet beyond childishly crossing her fingers and hoping that she would find him alive and well, ready with a completely plausible and obvious explanation for what had happened to his door.

So, she almost jumped out of her skin when she felt somebody brush passed her and take hold of her upper arms from behind. And she yelped out of surprise, jumping backwards slightly in her shock until her head accidentally connected with her captor's jaw and he let go to nurse his injury.

"Christine," he started slowly, the pain in his jaw slowly receding, "I did not mean to startle you as I did. I was merely surprised to find you in my living room…" When she stared at him in something akin to extreme embarrassment, he tried to backtrack, hoping he had not just discouraged her from ever coming back. "No, that is not what I meant – I meant… what I mean is that I just hadn't expected you to be here so early. But you are welcome, of course, I was not lying when I told you that… you are always very welcome here."

"I'm sorry… the door… I…"

"Oh," he sighed, suddenly aware of the reason for her unannounced presence. He knew she was such a caring person that she would have wanted to help anyone in that situation – but it was so sweet a feeling to know that he was worthy enough of her compassion… at least, _she _thought so. And it made his heart sing… "You dear, sweet girl," he laughed, in a sudden good humour, moving closer to her, "I've never met anyone like you before."

"I'm sorry I just came in like that…" she apologised meekly, looking down at his feet while she tried to come up with a decent explanation to her presence. "It was very forward of me…"

"Don't be ridiculous, Christine – it was very kind-hearted of you… to care that much. But, do not worry about that now, my dear… tell me what has brought you back here."

"I did not mean to impose," she offered, her eyes betraying her insecurities.

"You are doing no such thing. Come, let us sit down, I'll make us some tea and you can tell me what has happened…"

So, ten minutes later, when he had her seated and supplied with fresh tea and biscuits, he warily sat down next to her and, building up all the courage that he could, he faked confidence in just being near her… something that always had his heart racing and stomach tied in knots. But she did not need to know that – it was better that she think him strong and therefore not worth wasting her worry on when she needed to take care of herself far more than she needed to take care of him. "I didn't mean to come here so early…"

"You have told me everything that you did not mean to do, Christine… can you tell me what you _did_ mean to do?" he asked softly, trying not to make her close in upon herself by being too pushy.

"I… I had a fight with my aunt," she admitted, going no further.

"What was it about?"

"She told me I was being inconsiderate and I was angry at her for not caring… I just left. I did not think to take anything with me…"

"Has she thrown you out?" Erik asked fiercely, his temper decidedly flared. "By God, if she has, I'll–"

"No. I mean… I don't know exactly… but I don't think so. I'll go back later… when things have settled."

"I'll come with you," he offered, causing her to look at him strangely. "For support – and to bring you back here to stay if she is callous enough to turn you out, especially after what you have been through…"

"Why do people keep saying that? I have not _been_ _through_ any more than you have _been through_!" she said heatedly, in a sudden burst of annoyance at everyone _but_ the person she was raising her voice to.

"I am sorry, my dear. But I do not think it compares… you were hurt more mentally _and_ physically than I was. I may have been forced to… remove my mask – but it was you who had to look at me and it was you who had endure me. Besides, when we were… _together_, it did not hurt _me_… but, however much I wish it weren't the case, you were in a great deal of pain, I could tell. And I know that it hurt you that it was not your choice…"

"It was not _your_ choice either!"

"No, but that's different…"

"How is that different?"

"Christine, I… care about you a great deal…"

"What does _that_ mean?"

"I mean that it hurt me – _hurts_ me – _more_ knowing that you did not have a choice in the matter… You were raped, Christine," he said matter-of-factly, his voice beginning to strain. "And it breaks my heart that _I_ was the one who forced myself upon you."

"No… you didn't," she comforted softly, her compassion bringing itself to the fore again. "It was not _your_ fault. I was not raped by you, _Erik_," she smiled sadly, saying his name for him and placing her hand on his arm in comfort. "I can see that. You saved me from something much worse…"

"I still should not have done what I did…"

"You had no choice in the matter. You would never have done it otherwise… I realise that."

Little _did_ she realise that what she had just said did not supply him with any comfort but that it was tearing him up inside as he became consumed with guilt. He could not help but feel incredibly awful at his deception – while she believed he was completely blameless in all of this, he knew the truth – that he had wanted her all along anyway. If she knew that, he did not believe she would be so forgiving. But she deserved so much better, he knew. And he was just so glad that she thought enough of his home and of himself to go to him when she was in need, that he was unwilling to jeopardise it by blurting out his feelings for her… their relationship, as yet, was so fragile that it had to be nurtured not blown apart before it had had any chance to develop. And he was determined that, if she were ever to find out about the way he felt for her, it would not be when she was hurting so badly and when she had nobody else to turn to. He would never allow her to feel that alone that she could not talk to him… He cared about her too much. It was really quite surprising to him still, how much he cared… how much he _loved_.

* * *

"So, what happened to your door?" 

"It had an unfortunate run-in with a police battering ram…"

"_What_?"

"Ah, you have not heard then? Well, the police seemed to believe that I had abducted you from the hospital and, what with everything that's been going on, I have yet to get the door fixed."

"Did they arrest you?" she asked, more than a little shocked at this sudden revelation. He had done nothing wrong as far as she was concerned – why did nobody else share her opinion? Would they have rather he'd just let that man have his way with her? The thought alone sickened her.

"No… thanks very much to Jonty. He knew I would want to spend some time with you in order to sort everything out – so he went in my place. Which reminds me, my dear – when you are feeling ready, it would be a good idea for us to go down to the police station together and get our statements over with…"

"You mean I am going to have to go through it all again?" she asked despairingly, looking at him as though he could make it all go away with a few magic words.

"Oh, darling, surely you knew you would have to make a statement eventually…"

"I suppose… I just did not think of it. I thought it was over, and here I was wrong – it has only just begun."

"It'll be over soon," he promised, "And then we can start moving on properly. Do not worry… I will be there with you. In fact, I could get them to come _here_ if you wanted… I am sure they will be as informal as you require, given the circumstances. We could get it over with today…"

"I suppose."

He placed his hand upon the distraught girl's hand, trying not to appear so unsure of himself around her, and clutched it gently to offer comfort, friendship, _love_. "There is nothing to be frightened of… I am here. And I'd do anything for you."

* * *

"Mr. Wilkes," greeted the more senior of the two police officers standing on Erik's front doorstep. "I'm DCI Cavanagh and this is my colleague, Sergeant Collins – she'll be your Family Liaison Officer. We understand that Miss Daaé is with you and that you both wish to make your statements…" 

"Yes, please come in…" Standing back to allow them in, he watched as they passed by him into the entrance hall, and breathed a sorrowful sigh at the thought of the following ordeal. He would never wish for Christine to have to go through such a thing and he was certainly not going to let her go through it alone. And out of such concern, he pulled the two officers aside to relay his apprehensions. "Before we start, I am concerned that Christine has been under enough stress already and I do not wish to make it worse."

"Of course, of course… Miss Daaé will be treated with the utmost care, I assure you," DCI Cavanagh promised. "If she feels she needs to stop, we will respect that. Sergeant Collins is trained in dealing with victims of rape." If he noticed the change in Erik as he said that last word, he did not show it and the three of them stood silently for a moment, Erik absorbing the blow he had just been thrown before taking it on the chin and reassuring himself that he was happy to call what had happened between them anything if it helped Christine. He knew she was finding it hard to cope and it hadn't even been a couple of days since the incident.

Finally, Erik led them into his living room, where Christine stood nervously by the window, keeping the suite between herself and the two people who she knew would soon be intruding upon what had forcibly happened between herself and her dear teacher. He was her closest friend though he did not know it, if he ever would. She simply couldn't tell him. But she could take his comfort and, when this was over, she would do him the favour of giving him some space so that he could have at least one moment that did not revolve around her. How guilty she felt that she was not able to allow him his freedom from her – from the memory – when he sorely deserved it. "Family Liaison Officer?" she asked instead, clearly having heard their brief conversation.

"Yes, Christine," the female police officer replied softly, trying to win her trust as she slowly approached the frightened girl. "I'm here to make this as easy as possible for you… and Mr. Wilkes, of course. I'll be the person you can talk to if you need to get information to the investigation team and I'll help guide you through the criminal justice system when the time comes."

"Christine, my dear," Erik started, seeing that the policewoman's tact was clearly not working and deciding to try his own to soothe his angel. "Why don't you have a seat here next to me…" And he sat down upon the two-seater sofa behind him, patting the place next to himself in the hope that she would see he would be there to support her through all of this. Shortly, the police officers sat down across from them and opened their respective files upon the coffee table, beginning the process.

"First of all, on behalf of my colleagues, I would like to apologise for the mix-up yesterday and I assure you that there will be an independent investigation into the matter."

"Yes, well, let us skip the pleasantries, perhaps, for the sake of dignity and get right to the point. It is doing Christine no good for this to be drawn out so painfully." He placed his arm around her as she looked up at him innocently, more than a little scared, more than a little reliant upon his strength, and swept a hesitant hand across her cheek to reassure her. "Can we get started, please?"

"Of course… Christine, perhaps if we started with you and got it over with… Usually, we would require you and Mr. Wilkes give statements separately," he started, catching the terrified glint in her eyes as he continued, "but don't worry – we feel, under the circumstances, that an exception can be made. But, we are obliged to inform you that, as you are under eighteen, you are well within your rights to have a family member present… would you like that?"

"I just want Erik," she stated resolutely, though more than a little timid.

He looked down at her and smiled at her use of his first name, enveloping her smaller hand in his in his lap. "And I just want _you_," he said softly, reassuringly, _truthfully_.

© Copyright of CrawfordsBiscuits, April 2006


	9. Chapter 8: It's Alright to Cry

**Tiochfaidh ár Lá**

**Disclaimer: **Don't own POTO… This story is rated M for such subject matter not because it's really explicit.

**A/N: **This is for **Ripper** and t**heangelcried**, and all of my wonderful reviewers – you have be _so_ patient with me. Anyway, I've got to hurry. Kind of rushed, I know… and I'll try to update something else soon.And have a look at the following illustrations, both by **Ripper**:

**Cover: **http/ www. deviantart. com/ view/ 30810708/

**Raoul: **http/ www. deviantart. com/ view/ 30963583/

Inspire me. Please read and review…

**Chapter 8: It's Alright to Cry…**

"Thank you… for everything," Christine whispered when they got to her aunt's front door. It was night time now, the moon the only light helping her see her way safely.

"Anything for you, my dear… Do you have a key?"

"Yes, thank God," she smiled nervously, pulling the proof out of her pocket. "I don't know what I'd do if I had to ring the doorbell and try to placate her into letting me in…"

Erik leaned forward so that she could better see him and showed his unhappiness with a sad frown. "Christine, if she ever asked you to leave or made it impossible for you to stay, you know you can always come to me… don't you?"

She shook her head briefly, grateful and ever unsurprised by his compassion, though not enough to ever put him in such an awkward position. "You are very kind. I know you would not see me out on the street – but it won't come to that, I promise. Ros may be hard to live with but she's got a conscience – family stick together apparently, and that includes me."

"She doesn't know what she's missing in you."

"She doesn't need to."

He sighed and brought his hand up, hesitating only briefly before raising it to her upturned face, stroking along her cheek, pitifully realising that he could never convey all of his feelings to her so soon… it would take her a long time to be able to cope with such a revelation.

Christine was confused as he seemed to lose his train of thought and stilled in his movements, his hand remaining upon her cheek, though now paused in its track. Why did she feel like he was going to kiss her? Why was he looking so intensely at her? It was an oddly comfortable moment… but the moment itself did not last.

He caught himself and lowered his hand, trying to move as effortlessly onto a new topic of conversation as he could have hoped. "My dear, what do you intend to do… in so far as the policemen said? Will you speak to a counsellor?"

"I don't know," she admitted, looking down at his shirtfront as she bit her lip in thought, before bringing her gaze up to his again. "I'll think about it," she offered weakly.

"I know that the idea is not very appealing – I find myself somewhat offended by it as well. But it might help you…"

"You aren't going to see a counsellor, are you?"

"I will if it will mean that you will give it a chance…" He shifted his weight over to his other foot uncomfortably as he considered what he'd just told her he'd do… it was certainly the last thing he wanted – but he _would _do it if he thought she might benefit from it in some way.

"I suppose…"

"Think about it, Christine, and we can discuss it at a more opportune time in the future."

"Perhaps you are right…" And she turned back to the door, unlocking it with her key before moving ever so slightly inside the frame of the doorway. She was trying to delay as long as possible the time when she would have to say goodnight to him and retire. So, it was much to her delight when he offered something to extend this period of time with him…

"Here," he said suddenly, as though remembering something that had otherwise slipped his mind, and he handed her the bag he had been carrying. "I had your dear father's clothes cleaned and pressed for you…"

She spent a moment looking down at the familiar clothes and when she looked back up at him, her eyes were clearly sparkling with tears in the moonlight. "You didn't have to go to that trouble…"

"It was the least I could do, sweetheart."

She nodded solemnly, unquestioningly. There was nothing he would not do to make things better. "Would you like to come in?"

He frowned, his lips curling downwards in a gentle expression of surprise. "Your aunt and uncle won't mind? I don't want to make things harder for you than they already are…"

"It's alright – they'll be asleep by now. It'll be fine so long as we're quiet." And she held the door open for him, even as she questioned her own actions and what they meant for her.

"Thank you." Erik was not stupid… if Christine was offering him her company for a longer period of time then he was not going to deny himself. It was what they both wanted, he told himself, and walked inside, following her into the kitchen before sitting upon the stool that she offered him at the island.

"Tea?"

"Please…" he answered, trying to distract himself from what was preying on his mind. And finally, he could ignore it no longer… "I got a phone call today," he started, watching as she put the kettle on and got them some teacups.

"Oh?" She was trying her hardest to sound as though it did not bother her in the slightest, but she knew that he would not just tell her about a phone call if it did not immediately concern her.

"It was the headmaster… apparently, the school will reopen in ten days. After all, there was no structural damage and nobody died… You and I were the worst hurt," he concluded, making sure to include himself in that as he knew it would upset her if he did not.

"Oh."

He flinched at the shrill clink of the teaspoon in the cup as she dropped it in her haste, sighing as it clattered loudly enough she thought she might have wakened the neighbours as well, and he got up from the stool he was sitting on, making his way over to her. "You don't have to pretend to be strong for me. You cannot fool me and I would not want you to. You are a delicate angel and you have not been properly protected or cared for as you should be – there is no shame in that."

"I'm not delicate," she defended half-heartedly.

"I know your pride won't allow you to accept it. But you mean so much to me, Christine… I don't want you to hide your emotions because you are ashamed of them. You are delicate, my dear, but you are not weak. I have never met anyone as strong as you in my life, you merely cannot see it." Her back still facing him, he felt no small amount of sadness as her shoulders began to jerk violently with the force of the sobs she was not allowing herself to voice. So he brought her back to rest against him and sighed sorrowfully, giving her the only reassurance she'd ever wanted. "It is _alright_ to cry, Christine."

* * *

"Have you seen this morning's paper?" 

"I prefer not to digest world disasters along with my breakfast, thank you, Jonty," Erik replied sourly as he stared at his oddly animated colleague across the front doorway to his home.

"I'll take that as a 'no' then…"

"What happened that's so important? Did the stock market crash? Did dear old Charlie Windsor express his experience of the dangers of light gardening?"

"Worse…" he muttered, carrying a copy of the Mirror as he pushed passed Erik and into the living room.

"Why, come in, Jonty! Make yourself at home, Jonty!"

"Will you shut up? This is important…" And he made Erik stand still as he unfolded the newspaper in front of him, the picture on the front clearly visible, powerful enough to make him gasp and close his eyes briefly in shame of how he had been making light of such a thing, lowering his head.

"Oh, Christine," he sighed. She had cried herself to sleep the night before, his words having opened the proverbial floodgates, and he had carried her up to bed, tucking her in reverently and placing her father's clothes back in her wardrobe before clearing up downstairs so that their little midnight meeting would not be discovered. But this… _this_ would destroy her. "My poor angel."

* * *

"Oh, there you are, Christine," Beth called to her cousin as the curly-haired girl came down the stairs that morning, clearly still half asleep and not half dishevelled. 

"Where else would I be?" she grumbled, rubbing a hand across her eyes. She had slept far later than she usually did, obviously having been so exhausted from her rather emotional outburst the night before and, as such, she had missed the opportunity of eating on her own.

"Perhaps with, oh, maybe… Mr. Wilkes," Beth and her sister giggled together, both taking a sip of their orange juice as they sat at the breakfast table with their brother.

"What are you talking about?" Christine frowned, worried even as she anticipated what was to come. The only inclination she got, however, was when her cousin threw that morning's paper at her and she stared in shock at the front page. "Oh, my God," she gasped, looking at the picture of herself and her teacher together on the cover of the newspaper. Their faces had been blanked out and so had everything below their waists, but it was not hard to tell what they were doing as he lay on top of her, her uniform clearly visible, and the headline left little to the imagination, except, perhaps, the truth. The quality of the photograph was grainy and blurred from having been blown up to fit the front of the page and it was clear to her that one of the people in her school had taken the picture on their phone while she had been going through that ordeal. "Who would do such a thing?" she whispered. She felt sick at the thought… that somebody had that picture somewhere still – that it would remain forever in the archives anyway. She was disgusted with the rest of the human race at this point – except for one man whom she knew would be taking this as badly as she was. "I'm going out."

"Mum told us to baby-sit you. Wherever you go, we go…"

She couldn't take her cousins around to Mr. Wilkes' house… she could never tell him the things she wanted to tell him with _them_ there… and she could never apologise like that with such an audience. She was even disgusted within herself that they, her cousins – her _almost_ family, had seen her like that… had seen her then.

"Besides," William began, teasing, "there'll be press everywhere…"

She hadn't even thought of that. God, he would be mortified, she was sure. She hated herself for being such a nuisance to him, and she buried her face in her hands to try to get away from it all.

If she had not been so absorbed in her destructive thoughts, perhaps she would have heard the doorbell ring, and Cíara answer it. So it was with surprise when she heard the voice of someone she really did not want to see at present.

"Is Christine in?"

"Raoul…"

"Come on, Beth, let's leave the two lovers alone," Cíara sniggered, pulling her sister away.

Raoul shook his head and walked towards her warily. "Ignore them." He was so hoping they could get on better terms today so that he could help her. He really did want to help her. She was his girlfriend and he loved her as only he could.

"Raoul, I can't stay – I've got to…" she trailed off, searching for something to say that seemed reasonable – _believable_. "I've got to make an appointment – with the doctor…"

"Doctor? Are you ill?"

"Not that kind of doctor, Raoul."

"Oh?" he asked confusedly. And then it clicked… "Oh, you mean a psychiatrist."

"No, I mean a _psychologist_."

"What's the difference?"

"A medical degree and a mental disorder."

"I didn't mean to suggest…"

"It's fine… but I still have to make the appointment. The police gave me a number to ring… Victim Support, I think." Awkwardly, she fiddled with the pocket of her trousers, nervous and unsure, and then she just walked away from him, back up the stairs, unwilling to let the situation continue indefinitely. She really couldn't handle that at all.

"Well… I'll leave you to it, I suppose," he mumbled to himself, feeling even more desolate than when he had arrived a bare few seconds ago. And then he saw the paper lying on the counter, and his heart fell another several notches…

* * *

"I should phone her…" Erik mumbled, pacing about the living room in his worry. He had never even imagined the depths to which one or more of her peers had sunk in taking that picture… Truly, he had thought the worst was passed, but things just seemed to be conspiring against his gentle angel. "No, I can't phone her… _they_ will be home." 

"No, you shouldn't phone her… you should leave her alone…"

"But, she'll be upset…"

"She was upset before the paper printed this, she'll be upset for a long time after, Erik. There is no changing that…"

"I don't know. When we're together… she can be so oblivious to what has happened in the past. Some moments, I think she has forgotten… and then she'll look at me and her gaze will waver and I'll just know that she's thinking about it again… about what I did to her. But, when she forgets… that is when she is truly alive."

"You can't make her forget, Erik."

"I can try."

"You must face it… you will always be a reminder to her. There is no getting away from that."

"But, perhaps… perhaps… in a few years time," he tried desperately, "when we're a bit older and the memory is getting progressively more distant… perhaps then… it will not be so painful for her to remember our first time."

"You say that like you expect there to be another time."

"Not _expect_, Jonty… just _hope_."

Jonty shook his head and wished he didn't have to be the voice of reason in all of this. "And what of her boyfriend? Do you think he will be so happy to fit in with your plans and just fade into the background quietly?"

"He was happy enough to fade into the background when my Christine was in the hospital and needed support the most… she had _no one_, Jonty. Can you imagine her pain?"

"I have a feeling that you believe _you _can."

"Nobody knows her like I do, Jonty. She needs me – if just for the moment – she does need me. And I would do anything for her."

"I quite believe that."

* * *

"Hello, Erik, I'm Dr. Wilson… please, come in, have a seat." Being a counsellor, he was rather used to observing strange behaviour and, certainly, he could not miss the mask of the man before him, who had chosen to wait outside the waiting room, in the corridor, instead of sitting with a bunch of other people. He would ask him about it later, he thought. 

"Thank you," he replied through gritted teeth, his expression blank as he held in his discomfort at being the object of this professional's analysis. Seating himself quietly, he crossed his legs and his arms and leaned back and then thought better of it and uncrossed his arms again, choosing instead to place his hands in his lap.

Dr. Wilson smiled gently and closed the notes he had been reading – the ones that told him that the appointment had been arranged by the police service and the awful reasons behind it. And then, to try to put his patient at ease, he placed his own hands together over his crossed knees. "Can you tell me what has brought you here today? What do you think I can help you with?"

Sighing, Erik held his nerves in as well as his practice at such things allowed him. "I expect you've read the papers recently… about the school incident…"

"I tend not to follow tabloid gossip, Erik. Why don't you tell me what happened in your own words…"

* * *

"Hello, Christine, I'm Dr. Carlisle… please, have a seat." 

"Thank you."

"I have your letter of referral here…" she said, glancing down at the paper briefly. "Your social worker thinks it would be beneficial for you to talk to someone…"

"I don't want to talk to you."

"No one can force you, Christine… you have to want to do it for your own sake."

"I promised someone very dear that I would give it a try."

"Why don't you tell me about this person… I'd like to know."

"Alright…"

And so she began telling this complete stranger about the person who meant most to her in her life at the minute and, before she knew it, she had relayed everything that had happened between them ever… their instant connection when they had met, their quiet respect for one another, the forced act that had changed everything between them, and their now timid friendship, their comfort in each other's company, her ability to forget only when she was with him.

* * *

"I had to see you," he admitted breathlessly, grasping her hands together between them as he pulled her out of the back door of her house and around the corner where they could be alone. He'd just gotten out of the psychologist's office when he'd been taken with the urge to see his beloved and make sure that she was alright. As luck would have it, he found himself arriving just as she walked around the side of her aunt's house towards the back. 

"You make it sound like we're a pair of illicit lovers, stealing romantic moments together in the dead of night," she laughed humourlessly, surprised but pleased nonetheless to see him there.

"You're upset with me," he stated sadly, sure that anyone _would_ be and certainly would have the right to be if they were in her shoes.

"No, not with you… but with everyone else."

"I'm sorry for what they've done."

"It was never _your_ fault."

"It was never _yours_ either, but you seem to be suffering evermore for it."

"What will they think of me?" she asked despairingly, her façade finally slipping as she started to cry uneasily and he automatically brought her against him to comfort her.

"It's alright – they cannot print our names."

"Everybody knows who it is, anyway… and they can see us. It's obvious."

"I wish I could make everything better for your sake… I regret that I cannot. But it _will_ be alright, Christine… We'll survive this."

"Do you think we'll still be friends years from now?" she asked suddenly, curious.

"Without a doubt." Though, secretly, he hoped they would be much more than just that. He hoped they'd be lovers. Married, even.

"Even when I've gone off to university?"

He moved her back so that he could look in her eyes and smiled sadly. "You're stuck with me, my dear… till the end of time."

"You say that like it's a bad thing…"

"_You_ say that like it's not."

She smiled, ever-so-slightly happier than before because of him. "It really isn't."

© Copyright of CrawfordsBiscuits, June 2006


	10. Chapter 9: A Routine is Better than None

**Tiochfaidh ár Lá**

**Disclaimer: **Don't own POTO… This story is rated M for such subject matter not because it's really explicit in any way.

**A/N: **Sorry again, **Ripper**, just got four exams left to go now though and then it won't take me just this long to reply. Bear with me till then, will you?

And dear, sweet **theangelcried**, how sorry I was to have kept just missing you this passed weekend. I did go on MSN when I got the chance – however brief… perhaps next week will prove more productive.

I was going to have a lot of things in this chapter – but then it got too long and turned into about five different chapters so a few things won't make sense until all of the parts are up. But you knew that, didn't you?

And have a look at the following illustrations, both by **Ripper**:

**Chapter 2 - The Wall: **http/ www. deviantart. com/ view/ 31206004/

**By the Window: **http/ www. deviantart. com/ view/ 32060864/

Please read and review…

**Chapter 9: Any Routine is Better than None…**

"Good morning, my dear," Erik greeted as Christine opened the back door of her aunt's house for him. Moving inside, he lightly kissed her forehead as he passed her, setting the breakfast he had brought her upon the worktop. They had developed somewhat of a routine together, though neither one had consciously said anything to implement it and it had only been in place for no more than a mere few days… but still, neither one would break the routine either – for it was a sacred ritual now that both allowed them to cope by supporting each other and gave them some structure in their lives until the school bell once again tolled for them and they would have to force themselves back. As yet actually, they had not had that discussion…

As it stood, Erik would come to see her in the mornings, when he had breakfast with her, bringing it himself as he passed by a wonderful baker's on the way to her house. And they would eat it in the quiet of her kitchen before everyone else got up for the day. Then, they would go their separate ways reluctantly, Erik trying to find a definitive way to help her, Christine trying to find a definitive way to forget and feel safe again, both of them dealing with the unwanted strain of the police and prosecution services. At which point, late afternoon would arrive, wherein Christine would receive a phone call from Erik to make sure that in the space of time he had not been with her, she had not been treated too brashly by a policeman or too indelicately by any number of other people. And, if nothing untoward had happened, he would wish her a good evening with the promise of breakfast in the front of their minds and the promise they had made to each other without words that neither need suffer alone.

"Good morning, Mr. Wilkes."

"Erik," he corrected.

"You know I cannot call you that."

"Why ever not?"

"Because… school starts in a couple of days and I can hardly go around calling you by your first name."

"I don't see why not…" he frowned, rearranging their breakfast on the island and pulling her stool out for her, before seating himself.

"It's favouritism."

"I don't think people will see it that way, Christine… what you had to have happen to you in order for me to ask you to refer to me by my given name will hardly make them want the same treatment."

"I suppose you're right… but I still can't call you that."

"Whatever makes you most comfortable, my dear…" he sighed. "So, have you thought about what you'd like to do?"

"What do you mean?"

"Do you think you will be returning to our school? You don't have to, you know… we can sort something else out," he reassured, clasping her hands together on the counter between them. He couldn't tell her what it felt like to be able to call anything _theirs _and to tell her that _they _collectively would deal with any problems that arose.

"I'm seventeen… it's a bit late for me to be starting at a new school, making new friends, having them find out what happened – because they will, you know… that will happen… only for me to leave a few months later anyway, when I've finished my exams. I think it'd be easier – marginally so anyway – to just stay put."

He nodded, secretly glad – he would not be able to look out for her if she weren't with him during the day. "Perhaps that would be for the best…"

Returning his nod, she dejectedly started pulling one of the paper bags over to her and removed some of the food he had brought her. She wouldn't tell him, but she had something on her mind that wouldn't go away.

* * *

"You're sure you are alright? You are not just saying so?" Erik asked, having just phoned her since he had not seen her for all of eight hours in the dragging moments between breakfast and mid-afternoon. She was becoming so much what he centred his life around. 

"No, really, I'm fine. Actually, today is one of my better days," she admitted, cradling the phone against her ear as she both spoke to her concerned teacher and continued making herself a sandwich for an early tea.

Several days had passed since she'd found out that she'd be returning to school shortly and Christine had found it increasingly hard to cope. Some days were bearable, most were not… Her sole refuge everyday was the contact she regularly received from Mr. Wilkes. It was the only few moments of sanity she got anymore, in amidst the contact from police and counsellors and so on… He had always been the one keeping her sane… and now – _now_ he was the one who made sure she got up everyday just to have breakfast with him and he made sure she took care of herself… and lived. He was the one who made sure that she ate and made sure that she slept. He was the one who phoned her everyday, at least, to make sure that she had not given up. He was the one who made sure that she did not fall into an utter and wretched despair. He certainly was the only one who would have cared if she had. He alone was her stability.

"And you've eaten since breakfast?" he enquired with a great deal of concern, a trait that so endeared him towards her.

"I am just doing so."

"Good. Healthily, I presume… you are not just going to grab a snack, are you?"

"You worry too much," she laughed.

Erik's heart warmed at the beautiful sound of her laughing and he realised that he would do anything if only he could hear her do so more often. "I worry just enough. Now, tell me, my dear – are your family treating you well?"

Christine sighed not without his notice and took a moment to think. "Please do not call them that… But, they _are_ certainly treating me differently. They avoid me now – since they saw the paper the other day – and, instead of being uncivil, they just ignore me. I have fallen in their estimation, I believe."

"Christine–"

"No, please don't. I'm fine, really. I'd rather they ignored me than pretended to like me just because of what happened."

"My dear child, I have never held anybody so highly in my esteem as I hold you. I don't like it that they are upsetting you, though… They should be more sympathetic towards you. It will be a hard time ahead and I wish that you were receiving more support in your home," he said, frowning thoughtfully though she couldn't see him.

"It is enough to know that _you_ care," she said truthfully. "I don't know what I would have done without you. I think I might have given up."

"I'll never let that happen. And you know that you can phone me anytime, don't you? I'd be glad to hear from you, in fact. Even if you want to phone me at three in the morning just to talk…"

"You are a very sweet man, Mr. Wilkes, but I couldn't possibly take such a liberty," she said, shaking her head at no one in particular. "I've got to go – I want to get something from the shops before they shut and I have to get changed."

"Of course, my dear," he agreed though he was terribly disappointed. "It was lovely talking to you. Tomorrow?"

"Yes, tomorrow. I look forward to it."

"Before you go…" he started, suddenly filled with confidence at what she had said. "I thought perhaps… today, if you're not busy, of course, you might like it if I took you somewhere – got you out of the house and away from _them_… What do you think?"

"I'd like that."

"Fantastic," he exclaimed, rather more enthusiastically than he would have liked. "I shall pick you up this evening."

"Where are we going?"

"_That_, my dear, is a surprise."

* * *

"You can't be serious…" 

"I am entirely serious… What's wrong? Do you not wish to go with me anymore?" Erik asked more than slightly worriedly as he tried to keep his demeanour indifferent. He had picked Christine up from her aunt's house late that afternoon and had taken her home with him, where he had entertained her briefly before surprising her with where he intended to take her. Now, they were standing in his bedroom – the room he had given her the first time she had spent the night in his house – placing a beautiful dress out on the bed for her to wear that evening.

"Of course I do! I just… I can't remember the last time I went to the opera… Actually, that's not true – I remember it as though it was only just this morning. It was with my father – he took me for the last time a few months before he died – about three years ago now. _Don_ _Giovanni_… I _loved_ it," she said sentimentally, a faraway look taking over her eyes.

"I'm so sorry, precious. I know it is very difficult for you. But you have been denied opera for too long… I still wish to take you tonight if you are willing." He brought his hand up to stroke along her shoulder and rejoiced that she did not flinch away.

"Yes, I want to." She was looking at him strangely now – and he couldn't work it out. It was like she was trying to read him with her eyes – like she needed an answer only he could give her but she was unwilling to include him in that discussion… like she would make an earth-shattering decision all on her own based solely on what she found in his gaze. But then her own gaze wavered and her lip twitched slightly into an odd little smile before she looked down.

He'd passed.

He knew so instinctively. He didn't know _what_ he'd passed – but he had not failed and that was all that mattered where she was concerned.

"Good. You will enjoy it. I shall leave you to put the dress on." He nodded happily and smiled at her softly before doing as he said and heading towards the door.

"Don't leave me, Erik," she said suddenly, surprising both of them as she grabbed hold of his forearm before he could walk passed her.

Her rare use of his first name made him stop and turn back around to look at her curiously. He didn't know whether she was asking him not to leave her now or not to leave her ever – like her father had done by dying. "I won't _ever_ leave you," he said fiercely, stroking her hair back over her shoulder. "But you do have to get changed…" Now that he thought on it, he realised that she had been acting decidedly strangely all day… but he couldn't really say for sure since she was quite entitled to act a bit strangely over the last week. It was nothing he could really put his finger on – but she was not acting like herself, of that he was sure.

"You can turn your back… please… I don't want to be left on my own. It is not as though you have not already seen me," she finished, more to herself than to anyone else.

Looking into his angel's tearful eyes, he found that he could not deny her and nodded imperceptibly, going to stand by the door with his back to her.

"Talk to me," she asked of him as she started to undress, "so that we are not so uncomfortable."

Thinking quickly, he mentioned the first thing that he could think of – something he would admit had been preying on his mind since the last night she had spent in his home. "Tell me about your father… your parents. I want to know about them."

She sighed but not sadly – it was nice to know that someone cared enough to ask. "Well, my mother died giving birth to me – something went wrong that the doctors could not have predicted and they couldn't save her. Daddy never got over it. He loved her so much. But he was so lucky to have loved like that – I hope one day someone will love _me _like that."

"Mmm," Erik agreed, fighting back the urge to tell her that he already did.

"Anyway, he went on to live fourteen long years after that and then I think he just gave up. The doctors said it was heart failure…"

"What was he like with you, sweetheart? He adored you, I don't doubt."

"He was the most wonderful father in the world," she said softly, missing him all the more for speaking about it. But it was a comfortable sort of sadness… "He used to take me to the theatre at least twice a month… until he died. My life used to be perfect… so perfect."

Erik didn't know what to say. He wanted to comfort her but he did not know how to do so. Perhaps thankfully, he did not have to as she finished putting on the dress he had gotten her, announcing that she was done and he could turn back around. Doing so, his breath caught in his throat as he took all of her in.

"It's lovely," she murmured, unaware of his stare as she looked down at what she was wearing and brushed her hands across the rich fabric. She was unwilling to ask who it had belonged to. And _he_ was unwilling to tell her no one had ever worn it before.

"Certainly is that," he mused aloud, looking more at her than the dress itself. "Come, shall we go, dearheart? It will take us a while to get to the theatre."

_

* * *

Faust_ had been wonderful. Christine had found out that it was his favourite opera and she had asked him about it afterwards in the car on the way back to his home, watching with delight as his face lit up and he answered her enthusiastically. At first, she had asked him questions to distract herself, but then she started to realise that he was actually rather interesting – more so than even she already knew. It was also clear to her that he did not often have someone with him who would ask such questions or take such an interest in his answers. He had told her when they'd gotten to the Grand Opera House that he had thought she deserved a treat and that was why they were there – but she had the peculiar feeling that he also found her company there a thoroughly enjoyable experience, and that he would not have enjoyed it half so much if he had gone alone. It was a learning experience for her then – not only of the opera but of him as well and his strange, but very loveable, little eccentricities. She mused only somewhat sadly as she sat beside him in the car, that he was the best friend she had ever had. 

Listening to him as she turned around to look at him from the passenger seat, she couldn't help but notice that his happiness meant something to her… something peculiarly tangible that she could feel inside her chest. It made _her_ happy that he was happy and, watching the left side of his face twitch up into a little smile as he drove and talked to her, she found herself smiling too, amused and peacefully content. Perhaps it would not be so bad after all.

And so began their tentative but hopeful relationship – a relatively shaky start by most people's standards but built to last, Erik was sure, for he loved her more fully and more intensely than anyone had ever loved before. And he was determined that, from this slightly clumsy, hesitant start, would flourish a strong and lasting bond that would keep them together for years… into eternity, in fact.

* * *

"Christine…" 

The gentle whisper of her name, that she had not been expecting, stilled her in her footsteps and she turned, squinting slightly in the light of early morning, to see the car stopped beside her… the car she had been in so often recently. And she turned as she felt a hand upon her shoulder even before she saw anyone approach her.

"Raoul…"

It was at that point, then, that she realised it was not one person who had called to her but _two_ – independently and apart from each other. Her boyfriend stood possessively between her and the man she secretly held so much higher than him – and if only he knew.

"Mr. Wilkes," she spoke in acknowledgement, and unconsciously took a step towards him.

"Come on, Christine," Raoul started, though still glaring at Erik, "we can walk to school _together_."

"Do you honestly think I'll just let her walk when she can come in my car with me?" Truly, Erik was disgusted with her aunt and uncle for having cared so little that they just let her leave unannounced and have to make her own way to the school. He was absolutely appalled. And he was not going to let it continue for another second… _he_ would take her to and from the school and wherever else she wanted.

"Do _you_ honestly think I'll just let you take advantage of her naivety and let you have her all by herself for you to try something?"

From off to the side of them, Christine watched detachedly and with a great deal of tiredness… she really could not be doing with such confrontation at the moment – she was far too distracted with what was to happen back at school.

"What exactly is it you think I want from her?" Erik sneered, unaware that Christine was beginning to tense up.

"I won't insult her by mentioning it!" Then he spun around, turning his back on Erik and unthinkingly placing his hand on Christine's lower side to guide her with him.

Unfortunately, she was not ready for such unexpected movements and she jumped away from him. "Don't touch me there." Her voice was small and relatively un- commanding, but Raoul could see that, if he did not heed such warnings in the future, she would not choose to stick around him for very long.

"You have upset her," Erik pointed out blatantly and used his rival's mistake to move closer to her.

"You are both making this harder than it already is."

"I'm sorry, my dear. Please… won't you come with me?"

She didn't want to hurt either of them… but she also did not want to have to walk passed all of the other students on her own. She needed one of them there with her. And she knew who she wanted… but she could not hurt the other one either.

"Raoul… if you promise not to insult him… perhaps Sir will let you come too."

Erik looked at her incredulously. What did she expect him to do? He couldn't deny her – of course not… and she knew that, the cheeky little madam. If the situation were not so tense, he might have laughed, patted her on the back and congratulated her on being more conniving than he could have ever imagined of her. "He can come," Erik nodded, his smile of amusement directed at Christine, "_if_ he sits in the back, and _you_ sit in the front."

"Raoul?"

"Fine."

And so, the three of them headed off to school together – the place where they had all been hurt in some way and to varying, indefinable degrees.

© Copyright of CrawfordsBiscuits, June 2006


	11. Chapter 10: Laughter

**Tiochfaidh ár Lá**

**Disclaimer: **Don't own POTO… This story is rated M for subject matter not because it's really explicit.

**A/N: **Thank you all for your reviews! I love hearing from you. I had intended to update this yesterday but FFN wouldn't let me... so here it is.

And have a look at this fabulous illustration by **Ripper**:

**Chapter 4 – Hospital: **http/ www. deviantart. com/ view/ 32061016/

Please read and review…

**Chapter 10: Laughter – Not Always Good for the Soul…**

It was a deceptively cheery morning, Christine noticed, as they arrived in the teachers' car park and Erik gently helped her out of her side, leaving her to get his things out of the boot as she looked up at the place that had previously been so sacred to her. It had been where she saw the man she considered her angel everyday. He could make her feel so much better after a typical night in her aunt's house with no one to spend time with but herself. It was different now, though…

"Are you alright?" Erik asked, coming to stand beside her as she stared up at the building in thought. She turned to look at him, biting her bottom lip to distract herself, and she blinked at him, unseeing for a moment. "I know. I'm sorry – it was a stupid question."

"It was nice."

Raoul coughed, uncomfortable with them speaking in what appeared to be such an intimate manner, even though their words were not at all. "We should probably head in, don't you think, Christine?"

So, why was it that if Erik had asked such a thing, Christine would have found it gentle – _supportive_, even… but when Raoul asked she just felt like telling him he was being insensitive and rushing her.

"I'm here," Erik smiled, distracting her again. "We will take it slowly, alright?"

"Slowly," she agreed.

"There is an assembly first – but I don't think you should be in there so soon. You don't have to go – we can stay in my room, if you want."

"Thank you."

"What about me?" Raoul asked, clearly miffed that he was – yet again – being ignored by his girlfriend in favour of her oh-so-precious teacher.

"What _about_ you?" Erik shook his head and placed his hand on the small of Christine's back to lead her gently towards the other side of the building where they would first see the other students. "_You_ are not even in my class – I cannot account for you… you can go to assembly like everyone else in your form and then you can go on to your other classes as usual. For as long as it takes, Christine will only leave my presence when and _if _she feels ready."

"You can't just take her out of classes," Raoul complained.

"Do you honestly think anybody's going to argue?"

"Please, Raoul… he is doing this for me."

"Fine. I'll see you later." And he walked away in a huff.

Glad, Erik led Christine around the building and stopped just at the point where they could see the other people. He was determined to go slowly for her. Some children would not be there, he knew… their parents would have stopped them from going until they were sure it was safe again – or would have moved them to a different school completely. But, he mourned, the girl who had been hurt the most in all of it did not have that choice as her guardians quite callously gave her no option but to go back to the school and not make a fuss. He was quite sure that if he had come in the night and taken her off somewhere nobody knew them that her family would not even care… But he couldn't do that to her – she needed to finish her exams and prepare. She needed to be _ready_ to leave.

They shared one final glance together and, at the same time, though independently of each other, they each sought out the other's hand blindly between themselves, clasping them together secretly in the folds of Erik's coat, before sucking in a breath and heading towards the foyer. Even now, over a week later, the atmosphere was decidedly chilled in the old building. Seemingly, there were no children there today… just hundreds of little adults, serious and silent in their memory of _that day_. Erik almost shuddered, and would not let Christine remain there for more than a second before he pulled her away from there and led them towards his room.

Usually, at this time in the morning, he would sit in the staff room with a cup of tea and go over what he had planned for the day. But not now – now he had Christine to worry about, and he settled her into her usual seat in his classroom, sitting himself on the desk in front of her. "They should be gone for quite a while… perhaps we can find you something to take your mind off of it."

"Can I have a quick word?" Jonty asked, popping his head around the doorway.

"Not now." The mood already as low as it was ever going to get, Erik did not appreciate Jonty sticking his nose in where it was not wanted, especially when he'd only just gotten Christine settled.

"It'll only take a moment – and it's important."

"Honestly, Jonty, would you give it a rest?"

"Don't you see a pattern here – all the times I've told you it's important and you should have listened?"

"I'm rather busy," Erik said tiredly, refusing to move from his place by Christine, forcing Jonty to walk fully inside to get his attention.

"Fine – I'll talk to you right here then. Hello, Christine," he acknowledged finally, only briefly turning towards her. "It's about your job, Erik… the headmaster is thinking about asking you to resign."

"What?" He turned to look at his frustrated colleague and could see that such news was genuinely bothering him… though Erik couldn't understand why – he could have guessed they would ask him to do so, and they already _had_ asked him to 'take some time off'. Which amounted to much the same thing depending on how one looked at it…

"They can't fire you – so they are going to ask you to leave amiably. You'll get a large severance and a good referral – they are hoping you will leave for Miss Daaé's sake."

"No." Both men turned to look at the young girl beside them, who had just whimpered that word in such a shocked, emotional voice that they were each surprised she was not in tears already. "No. No, you can't."

"It's alright, Christine," he said softly, enamoured of her concern.

"No, you can't leave. What would I do?" she asked weakly.

She was looking up at him with such helplessness and innocence at what she had said – after all, she could not know the extent to which her words had moved him – that he gently cupped the whole of her cheek in his large hand and brushed his thumb lightly across her lips as a substitute for kissing her, which he would have most definitely rather done. "You are the sweetest, most kind-hearted girl in existence, aren't you?"

"Erik," Jonty warned, uncomfortable with and disapproving of the scene before him.

Turning his head sharply to look at him, Erik scowled darkly and narrowed his eyes. "_You_ are the one who decided to bring this up in front of Christine. Besides… do you honestly think I could leave her?"

"I need him," Christine whispered as she looked up at Jonty tearfully. "I don't know what I'd do…"

"Shh, sweetheart," Erik murmured, keeping his hand comfortingly upon her. "It's alright."

"I'm sorry, Christine. I only wished to warn him of what was going on. It is not _my_ decision." And, frustrated at Erik's apparent lack of concern for his own livelihood, he left the room, deciding to let Erik find out for himself how serious this could be.

Watching him go, Christine then turned back to Erik thoughtfully. "Why do I get the feeling that he doesn't like me?"

"Jonty?" Erik asked confusedly, really not understanding why she would think so. "Jonty? Why on earth would you think that?"

"He's annoyed at me for making you care more about me than your job…"

"Christine…"

Her cheeks starting to flush in embarrassment, she lowered her gaze and began wringing her hands in her effort to distract herself from the mortification. "No, I'm sorry… I shouldn't have assumed that I meant more tha–"

"Don't you even think of finishing that sentence," Erik warned, stopping her by placing his thumb firmly over her lips. "You are more important than anything as trivial as my job – more important than anything. But Jonty does not dislike you… how could anyone dislike _you_?"

"Ask _him_… _he_ doesn't like me."

"Christine, he does." And he replaced his thumb over her lips to prevent her from arguing. Truthfully, though, the doubt was now set in his mind and he would have to talk to Jonty about it.

* * *

Dying of shame quietly towards the back of the room, Christine let her hair fall forward as a protective curtain while she leaned over and pretended to work on her theory. She hadn't done anything all morning – she'd been too busy trying to ignore the whispers and the stares of the people around her. When classes she was not a part of had had class with Mr. Wilkes, she had remained at the back of the room, trying to hide the fact that their glances bothered her so dreadfully. And Erik had been trying to draw as little attention to her as possible, loading pages of work upon his students and tolerating no other activity in his presence… but, now that the bell signalling lunch had rung and the class had noisily dispersed, he could no longer treat her as though she wasn't there. 

"How are you getting on?" he asked softly, stroking her hair out of her face and behind her ear as he crouched down beside her desk.

Christine started biting her lip nervously and put her pen down upon the noticeably blank page in her notebook. "I… I'm sorry, I couldn't… I didn't manage… I promise, I'll–"

"Shh, shh… forget it." And he waved his hand about vaguely in the air in dismissal. "It was only to distract you from the boredom of classes beneath you anyway. Perhaps we can find you something better after lunch."

"Lunch…" She hadn't thought of that… she had been stupid enough to have let it slip her mind. She'd forgotten to make one before leaving her house in the morning, which meant she would have to eat in the canteen if she didn't want to go hungry. She couldn't face that yet… What on earth was she going to do? Where was she going to go? And her stomach began to turn…

Because of such worries, she hadn't realised Erik had walked away into his storeroom and then back out again, carrying a couple of paper bags. "Which do you want – Ploughman's or seafood?"

Smiling sincerely at him, she let out the panicked breath that she had been holding and held out her hand for the sandwich she wanted. He was so thoughtful, she knew, but she hadn't expected him to have already thought all of this through before he had even come to collect her that morning – she hadn't thought that he would give up his lunch in the staffroom with Jonty and his other colleagues just for her. She was not disappointed to be surprised, however.

Erik, meanwhile, pulled a chair around from another desk and they shared hers, eating together without question until they had both finished.

"Raoul," Christine murmured as he came into the room. She'd forgotten about him – had been too wrapped up in her own problems to even think of him. Oh, she was an _awful_ girlfriend…

"I see you're sorted for lunch," he commented dryly.

"I'm sorry."

"_You_ haven't done anything wrong," Erik pointed out sourly. Why couldn't the boy just leave them alone?

"Some people were asking after you…"

"Oh?"

"Yes, they told me to tell you that they are glad you're alright."

"Thanks," she said unsurely. She didn't really know what else to say so she just continued sitting there quietly for a few moments, wringing her hands in her lap, her eyes down.

"Well… I have to get some things from my locker before my next class. I suppose I'll see you… tomorrow?" he finished.

"Tomorrow?"

"Yes, you don't need me to come home with you tonight – Mr. Wilkes will look out for you, I'm sure."

Erik found himself feeling the slightest, tiniest bit of sympathy for the boy – for being strong enough to do what was right for Christine. But it was soon crushed by the thought that, if _he_ were Raoul, he would never give up on Christine that quickly. In the end, he merely found Raoul to be a bit on the fickle side and he mentally dismissed him, concentrating on some melody that had gotten stuck in his head instead of having to witness the embarrassingly hard conversation in front of him.

"Alright. Bye." They were boyfriend and girlfriend – how could a conversation between them be so… strained. They were supposed to, at the very least, like each other a great deal… so why was she suddenly so shy around him?

Raoul nodded and moved to place his hand on her shoulder but faltered, seeing her tense, and withdrew, walking out of the room in silence.

"It never used to be this difficult."

"I know. It's understandable."

"_I_ don't understand it."

"It is not foremost in your thoughts right now. Give yourself time, Christine… it is too early for you to be thinking about making a relationship work when you should, quite frankly, be concerned only with yourself."

She nodded and accepted him rubbing her upper arm in comfort, cringing slightly when she heard the first bell signalling the end of lunch sound. "I don't feel well."

"Oh, sweetheart, that'll be your nerves."

She nodded again, resigned. "May I go to the toilets?"

"Of course." He was wary of letting her out of his sight ever again, especially in this place, but he had no other choice as his next class – one that Christine was actually a part of this time – filed into his room in her wake.

Meanwhile, outside in the corridor, Christine found herself accidentally bumping into Jonty.

"I'm sorry."

"Yes, sorry, Miss Daaé," he replied curtly, stepping to the side to move around her.

Before he could walk away, however, she listened to her curiosity and stepped in front of him. "What have I ever done to make you hate me so much?"

Jonty was surprised, to say the least, and had to take a moment to make sure she had actually asked what he'd heard. "I don't hate you, Christine – I don't even know you."

"But you dislike me…"

"Why does it matter to you what _I_ think about you anyway?"

"Because you are Erik's friend… and he is _my_ best friend. He has been so good to me. Your opinion matters to him, so it matters to me," she answered, her gentle temperament forcing her to not be too offended by his coldness.

"You obviously don't know Erik very well – the only opinions that matter to him are his own and yours… even if that means his judgement is clouded and he is putting himself at personal risk."

"But he doesn't have to give up his job," she argued, her curls tumbling around her shoulders as she shook her head in disagreement – a gesture Jonty observed and could not help thinking that Erik would kick himself to have missed. "I don't want him to – I will even tell the headmaster that if I have to."

Sighing, he placed his hand under her chin to make sure that she was looking at him before he revealed the truth to her. "Don't you understand? It isn't just about _you_ – his other female students are wary of being around him… they think he's some sort of pervert. It's nothing to do with you – the headmaster will ask him to resign for _your_ sake but only because he wishes to avoid a suit of action from all the girls' parents to have him removed… You have no say whatsoever – and Erik would know that if only he'd been bothered to listen to me."

"_I _can't make him listen."

"_You_ make him do more than you even realise," he said bitterly, letting go of her, and she was left staring at the back of his head as he disappeared around the corner.

* * *

"Are you feeling better?" Erik asked when she returned, looking suspiciously paler. 

"Yes, thank you." The tone of her voice, for the first time that day and the first time ever towards him, sounded oddly clinical and emotionless and Erik couldn't understand it or why she wasn't meeting his eyes.

"What's happened?"

"Nothing."

He studied her face for a moment longer and then turned up the volume of the recording he had been playing for his class, so that they would not hear any more of their conversation. "Were you ill?"

"No," she lied, trying to manoeuvre around him to get back to her seat and away from all of the stares.

"Christine, if it is making you physically sick, perhaps you should go home."

"If I go home, you'll never get me to come back…"

"We should talk about this," he replied adamantly, taking hold of her by her arms.

"Yes."

Nodding, he took her around the back of his desk and led her to the door at the back. "Now. Come back into the storeroom with me – just give me a second to give them some work to do…"

Walking in, she took a seat behind the table in there and sighed. Why did everything have to be so complicated?

"Do you want to leave?" he asked when he came in and shut the door behind himself.

"I won't be any happier anywhere else," she sighed dejectedly, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees.

"What will make you happier?"

She refused to tell him what Jonty had told her. It simply was not her place. How could she tell him that it was her fault he might have to leave? How could she ever justify herself?

"Tell me."

"Time," she answered, finally. Refusing to stay a second longer, she walked out of his storeroom ahead of him, and found herself confronted with twenty-something of the people in her class trying to stifle their laughter. At first, she could not work out exactly what they were laughing at – they were all huddled around a desk in the middle, leaning over to see something one of the boys had. And then she saw it for herself… one of the tabloids from the previous few days – the same picture she had seen in the Mirror. The same shame consumed her as she ran out of the classroom and as far away from the laughter as she could get.

© Copyright of CrawfordsBiscuits, June 2006


	12. Chapter 11: Sometimes It's Too Much

**Tiochfaidh ár Lá**

**Disclaimer: **Don't own POTO… This story is rated M for subject matter not because it's really explicit in any way.

**A/N: **Thank you all for your reviews! So you wanted TAL updated next… here it is then. And, if you get a chance, have a look at the new story I've posted – **Let Me Be Your Hero**… it is quite different.

And have a look at these fabulous illustrations by **Ripper**:

**In the Church: **http/ www. deviantart. com/ view/ 36541246/

**I Just Want You: **http/ www. deviantart. com/ view/ 36766639/

Please read and review…

**Chapter 11: Sometimes It's Too Much…**

He had found her curled up in a ball, her head on her knees, hiding under the stairs at the back of the building near the teachers' car park. It wasn't that he'd known where to look, or even that it had been just one of the many places he did look – but rather that he had been unable to locate her immediately and, in his rush to get back to his car to see if she'd walked home, he had heard her sobbing.

"Come here," he murmured softly, opening his arms to her as he knelt down by the staircase and tried to quell the disappointment in his heart that their first day back had gone _so _terribly. He should have expected as much, he knew. But it was well and good saying all that now that it was done and unfixable. The tears in her eyes sparkled in the light as she looked up at him, the corners of her mouth subtly turned down into a despairing frown – and it only strengthened his resolve as he took her into his arms. "I am taking you home."

"Please don't give them a reason to fire you…" she begged, her voice just on the point of breaking.

Cradling her as delicately as he thought one might cradle a newborn child, he stood and walked her to his car, rejoicing in the feel of her in his arms, even as he despaired at her pain. "They can't deny me compassionate leave, Christine."

"I'm sorry I'm such a burden," she sobbed as he placed her in the passenger side, and he shook his head, coming to sit on the edge of the seat with her, facing her so that he could reassure her before he got in his side.

"You are not," he murmured fondly, placing his hand on the other edge of the seat after he'd fixed her seatbelt on her. He smiled at her and ran his thumb across her cheek, wishing that she could see in herself what he saw in her. But he knew that would take quite some time…

Leaning forward, he retrieved a thick blanket off of the back seat and wrapped her in it, watching raptly as her eyelids started to droop in fatigue and she struggled valiantly to stay awake. "It's alright," he whispered, kissing her forehead before gently closing her door and getting into the driver's side, "We'll have you home before you know it." And without another thought, he set them on their way.

"No, I can't go home…" Christine mumbled, still struggling to keep her eyes open and remain conscious. "If I'm there before I–"

"I said that I was taking you home – I did not mention going to your aunt's house." Turning to look at her, he was amused by her surprised expression. Clearly, his comment had awakened her properly. And while all he had said was that they were going home, he hoped that she knew that he wanted her to consider it as her home too because she was most definitely not welcome in her aunt's house – and it is not a home if she was not cherished and appreciated as much as she would be in his.

"_Your_ home?" she asked tentatively, trying to sit up in a less slumped position. He continued to surprise her with his generosity… if it had been anyone else, she didn't know if they'd do half as much as he had done. And it made her wonder why he would care so much for someone like her.

He smiled at how unsure she was. It was so endearing to find that she did not at all know how much it meant just to be in her presence. "Well, that would be the general idea, yes…"

"But… why?"

"Because I want you there," he said matter-of-factly. "What more of a reason do I need? Just because you aren't a plumber that I've called round to fix the sink doesn't mean that you don't have any right to be in my house… I want your company. That's all there is to it."

Christine couldn't believe that he thought of it that way… that it wasn't a big deal to him – he just wanted her there. It was a remarkable feeling for Christine – to simply be _wanted_… she had not felt like that in years – not since her dear father had been alive. It was a curious feeling… something she found herself feeling more and more often, even if briefly, when she was with Mr. Wilkes. She wanted to feel like that always.

* * *

It would be so much easier if she were officially his responsibility… if he, solely, were in charge of where she went to school and where she lived and who she came into contact with. It would be so much easier if he didn't have to live by such boundaries when trying to help her. If he had legal responsibility for her, he would teach her at home if she wanted, and make sure that she passed her exams despite all that she was going through, so that she would find a suitable university far, far away from Guildford, and where they could be together if he could ever convince her that they would make such a wonderful couple – that no one would ever treat her better than he would and that she should marry _him_. But what could he do? 

He would just have to think about a way of making it happen… after all, Erik could make anything happen, he was sure, if he really wanted it. And there was nothing he wanted more than he wanted Christine Daaé.

Currently, she was upstairs in his house again, and he couldn't help feeling that it was right – the only way he would ever have it. _She _was the one. She was the only one – _ever_. Christine was the only woman who would ever lie in his bed while he was in his kitchen making her some tea and something plain to settle her stomach and her nerves.

She wasn't asleep, and though she was exhausted from her tears, she merely laid on the bed in a thoughtful silence, hugging the duvet comfortably under her arm as she rested on her side. She had yet to be faced with a full, tenuous day at school, in all her different classes, having a normal break, going to lunch in the canteen and having to walk home again – and yet she had not even managed this simpler, easier day. She was thoroughly disappointed in herself.

"I brought you something," Erik said softly, placing a teacup on the bedside table and a plate beside her as he brought a chair over to the bed and sat down, looking at her.

"Thank you," she murmured, though she didn't look at him. She continued to stare at the wall as she had been doing for what felt like the longest time imaginable.

"Do you feel any better?" he asked worriedly. He didn't want her making herself sick in her upset. She was already so withdrawn most of the time.

Nodding slowly, though she didn't actually feel much better at all, she stretched her arm out until her hand rested on the edge of the bed. Now she was just trying to work up enough energy to sit up and pick up the teacup. "A bit… I'm just tired… and embarrassed."

"You shouldn't be. You've got nothing to be ashamed of." He sat for a moment in silence as she continued to stare thoughtfully – or, perhaps, thought_less_ly – at the wall ahead of her. "Maybe it was too soon…"

She looked at him consciously for the first time since he had walked into the room, unsure whether she was hurt that he thought she was not capable of handling it, or whether she was hurt because it was true. "I didn't mean to cause this much hassle."

"It is neither hassle nor your fault," he said truthfully, trying to think through what they could do to make her believe that as he did. He was starting to think that time alone with someone who loved her unconditionally was the only way she would ever learn to love what she was… after all, if _he _could love her – _he _who loved no other, ever – then surely, she would one day learn to see the things in herself that he marvelled at. "I just think it might be too soon to send you back there…"

"I don't have much choice…"

Determined as he was that she should not continue in the rut of a life she was subjected to, he had already made up his mind to have this extra time with her, free from other obligations and interferences. Truly, he was terrified that she would just give up if he didn't help her. "I could talk to your guardians… explain to them that I think you need more time."

"That's kind of you but they wouldn't listen." Ever, his compassion surprised her, when really she should know by now that there was nothing seemingly that he wouldn't do.

"Well… then we shan't tell them," he said resolutely, placing his hand over hers.

Blinking a few times, she stared at him, unsure what he meant, and tried to overcome her confusion enough to wonder why a teacher, of all people, was suggesting she allow her guardians to remain oblivious to the fact that she was taking more time whether they liked it or not. "What do you mean?"

It was clear-cut as far as he was concerned – she was not ready, therefore, she wasn't going. And let that be the end of it. He had no patience for people who were uncaring if his beloved remained heartbroken. And so, he simply would not include them. "You aren't ready to go back, that much is clear… so you shall not go back until you _are _ready. And nobody in your travesty of a home shall ever find out about it."

"How?" she asked incredulously, rising up onto her elbow so that she could look at him.

He leaned forward in the chair, squeezing her hand and looking down briefly as he collected his thoughts on how to say it. "I've been offered a prolonged leave from work that I wasn't going to take, but now that I think about it – perhaps it would be beneficial to us both if I do…"

"But… I don't understand."

"Every morning when I pick you up to take you to school, I'll bring you here instead. I'll make sure that you get caught up with the syllabus and are ready for your exams… and I'll make sure you are taken care of while you are here as you are not when you are at home," he finished tenderly, stroking his hand across her cheek. "It doesn't have to be for long… just as long as you need."

Beyond being shocked that he would even want such a thing, she found herself caught up on the part about him picking her up every morning… of course, he'd done that this time, but she'd assumed that it was a one-off to help her on her first day back. But he'd said it like he had always planned to have her go with him every morning. She hadn't thought he could be more caring… how she had underestimated him. "How will we keep it from the school? Won't they need some sort of note from my guardians?"

He nodded and drew her hand into both of his. He knew she was not used to deceiving people and he was quite sure she was the absolute worst liar on the planet – but such things only made him love her more, and he knew he would have to make it seem like nothing so that she would not worry about it. "It will require a bit of forgery on my part, perhaps, my love – but I don't think they'd ask for a note so soon when they are well aware of what has happened to us."

"You would do all this for me?" she asked sceptically, sure she had missed something somewhere that would explain why he wanted to do this for her.

He placed their joined hands over his heart and said honestly, "_This_ is nothing… I would do so much more for you."

She knew he was telling the truth. She didn't know how she knew… but there was no doubt in her mind that he absolutely meant what he had said. And in that moment she wanted to kiss him… out of gratitude, perhaps, but she _did_ want to kiss him on the lips. She wondered if what she was feeling was akin to those in a marriage of convenience – that she was just glad to have someone there who would love her and cherish her just because of who she was and she was willing to show him a bit of affection if it meant he would continue. It was convenient for her because he would take care of her, and convenient for him because she didn't mind doing things for him if it would keep his favour. But still, whatever she wanted to do to show him that she was grateful, she was far too unsure of herself to even think of actually putting it into action. She would never jeopardise what she was receiving from him just for the sake of a kiss possibly too intimate for their shaky relationship to withstand. And they had an odd relationship at that anyway – what were they to each other? He was her teacher, yes, and now she liked to think of him as her friend as well… he was also her saviour – the man who had kept her going since her world had crumbled. But nothing could change the fact that he had been the man who was forced to rape her… and she wasn't sure that kissing, even out of gratitude, came into a relationship like that.

"How does this benefit you in the least?" she asked at last, in wonder of him.

"It will ease the pressure on you – and I think that will make you happier… anything that will make you happier is something I want to do for you. I just want you to get better, Christine," he said honestly. "And I must confess that your company will be anything but a drawback for me, dearheart. I… I enjoy… being around you."

She smiled at him kindly, provoking no little bit of joy to burst forth inside him. She seemed pliant to him, he thought, unaccountably peaceful as they were together and without interruption. She seemed pliant and at ease – comfortable with him – and he wanted to make the most of it before other worries and commitments forced them apart once again. So he leaned his forehead against hers, the cool of the mask flush against her skin, though she didn't seem to mind, and let his eyes slip closed as she sighed happily, unable to say exactly how glad she was that he was doing what she wanted of him. He was making her feel wanted… something that she never thought she'd feel, and, perhaps naively, she knew she would let him do anything he wanted if it meant feeling like that. She was drunk on his attention due to her inexperience of it before, and while in her right mind she might have thought she was doing something ridiculous to be lying in a bed in the house of a man who was old enough to be her father as he laid his forehead against hers… it was beyond rational thought. But innocent and starved of love as she was, she would be lost to any man who had shown her so much kindness through such misery.

Erik moved his head slightly, nuzzling her nose fondly. He was ready, he decided. Ready to kiss her for the first time… and he felt that she was too. She seemed not to object to the closeness of their current position, otherwise he would have removed himself immediately… but she was actually rather peaceful, and receptive. So he made up his mind, a conscious decision as he had had to thoroughly think through all that it would mean for them. But, regardless, he was going to go through with it, even if it meant making a complete and utter fool out of himself. She was worth it…

He sat back, drawing them apart for a moment so that he could better position himself, and so that she might open her eyes and be aware of what he intended. While he wanted nothing less than to have her jump away from him in disgust, he would far rather she be given the choice than not… she had missed out on choices before, and he never wanted her to feel so helpless again.

But his following actions were undertaken with far less ease and skill than he'd hoped. In fact, it was the clumsiest scene he had ever been part of in his life… Leaning down to try to kiss her and moving forward out of the chair to get closer to her, he did not anticipate the slight movement of her head that caused their noses to bump into each other and he did not expect the reason for her shifted gaze to be that he'd just sat on her plate. So he tried to salvage some of the situation before the mood completely went and he was left with an entirely awkward moment. And he therefore tried again straight away, leaning in at a better angle to kiss her even as he sat on her plate and inelegantly placed his hand on her hip. Then he was distracted by her head turning to stare at his hand and he paused, ready to take it away if it made her uncomfortable, but she slowly placed hers over his and turned back towards him. She smiled at his attempt to make her feel cared for and closed her eyes, waiting for him. So he tried for a third time, and the doorbell rang just as the side of his nose fit snugly against hers and their lips were so very near to being pressed together. He sighed noisily and ever so disappointedly, pulling back from her even as he allowed his hand to remain where it was. "I'll just be a moment… Try to drink some of your tea… I'll make you some more toast when I get back," he laughed nervously, standing up and pealing off the piece that was attached to his trousers before he drew his hand casually across her cheek and smiled at her, leaving the room.

Languidly, he made his way down the stairs to the front door. Now, while he wanted to get rid of the person as quickly as he could and run back up the stairs to be with Christine again, he also wanted to take advantage of the time presented to him to think on what had passed between them – and what nearly had. They'd nearly kissed and he almost couldn't believe it… he had actually stood a chance at sharing something like that with Christine Daaé – the woman he loved beyond all reason. He was both ecstatic at such a thing and inconsolable that he had not been able to follow though with such an honour.

"Jonty," he greeted falsely as he pulled the door open, unsurprised at the identity of his interrupter. "I would never have guessed that, of the two people who ever visit me – and the other one is upstairs, might I add – that it would be _you_ at my door, ready to lecture me."

Not waiting to be invited, Jonty stepped inside and went straight into the living room, trying valiantly not to respond to his friend's flippancy. "Christine is _upstairs_? Are you mad?"

"Here we go," Erik sighed, shutting the door again and walking to the threshold between the living room and the entrance hall. "Well, I couldn't very well tell her to sleep on the sofa, could I?" He gestured vaguely at the furniture and shook his head in frustration – it was so clear in his mind of the reason involved in what he was doing for her.

"You're letting her sleep here?" Jonty couldn't believe it… of course, he expected Erik's judgment to be clouded, and even his lack of non-work related social activity to affect such judgement… but he'd never expected him to be stupid enough to allow a female student to stay in his house without a third party there for the protection of his reputation and without even informing the people responsible for the girl in question.

"She's exhausted… I'll take her to her aunt's house when she's rested. Really, _what_ is your problem?"

"I'm worried you'll lose your job over her," he said pointedly.

"For taking care of her when she needs it and no one else will…?" Erik shook his head at such cynicism – he knew Christine would never do anything to consciously hurt him, and he knew that she was aware he could lose his job for unprofessional conduct if she said something suspect about their time together. He was not worried about it coming from her. "Honestly, Jonty, I'd have thought you'd be more considerate – it's my fault she is not coping well…"

"It is not your responsibility. _She_ is not your responsibility."

"Are you telling me that, if you were in my position, you would just ignore her and pretend she didn't exist… that you'd be cold towards her and not care that she was being mistreated. Would you also not care if she did something drastic?" he asked, raising his eyebrows in doubt.

"Are you telling me that you're doing this so that she won't hurt herself and you won't have to feel guilty?"

Erik made a noise somewhere between a growl and a sigh, finally losing his patience with Jonty. He folded his arms pointedly and took a step back into the entrance hall, hoping that the tiring man would take the hint and leave before he had to physically turf him out. "Look, I have absolutely no intention of staying down here and arguing with you when we are obviously never going to agree… I'd ask you to leave."

Jonty was incensed. It was like Erik could not see what was happening right in front of himself for looking at _her_. She commanded the whole of his attention and there seemed to be nothing left over for sensible thought. "Can't you see what's going on? She is doing you no good whatsoever!"

"What is your problem with her? What has she ever done to you? You know, she told me you didn't like her and I didn't believe her because I thought you were enough of a friend to not make her feel even more unwelcome… I suppose I misjudged you. Tell me what it is that you have against Christine," he demanded, taking a threatening step towards him.

"Nothing… I have nothing against her."

"Don't lie to me."

"She is so… inoffensive," he said at last, struggling for the right word.

Erik blinked and tried to process what Jonty had said. "What? You don't like her because she is inoffensive? Because she is nice…? Sweet…?" Disgusted, Erik shook his head at his supposed friend. "How can you have a grudge against a young woman who has been raped in front of all of her peers and teachers? How can you have a grudge against the woman who makes me happy? The woman I love…?"

The look on Jonty's face and the gasp behind him were unmistakable, and he turned, horrified, to see Christine staring at him, her mouth open in surprise. "Oh, my God…" she whispered.

"Christine–"

"Oh, my God…" And it was then that she ran.

© Copyright of CrawfordsBiscuits, August 2006


	13. Chapter 12: To Start to Let Go

**Tiochfaidh ár Lá**

**Disclaimer: **Don't own POTO… This story is rated M for subject matter not because it's really explicit in any way.

**A/N: **Finally! I know I've been absent a lot recently and I'm sorry, but I updated **The Light of His Life** the other week, for anyone who's interested. Alright, so I can't remember who asked about the toast thing, but… speaking only for myself, I have, personally, sat on dry toast and had it stick to my pyjamas… maybe it's just me.

Anyway, please read and review…

**Chapter 12: To Start to Let Go…**

"_How can you have a grudge against the woman who makes me happy? The woman I love…?"_

_The look on Jonty's face and the gasp behind him were unmistakable, and he turned, horrified, to see Christine staring at him, her mouth open in surprise. "Oh, my God…" she whispered._

"_Christine–"_

"_Oh, my God…" And it was then that she ran._

"No, Christine, please–" he called out as she ran from him.

Terrified of losing her because he could not keep from professing his feelings for her, he could only thank whatever had made her run back _up_ the stairs instead of straight out the front door and away from him forever. Perhaps she felt she had nowhere else to go – nowhere else she felt safe… whatever reason she had, he was grateful nonetheless and would make good use of the opportunity she had provided for him to explain.

As the last part of her slipped quickly from his view at the top landing of the staircase, he whirled around to face Jonty. "This is all _your_ fault!" he hissed, grabbing the man by the shoulder roughly and pulling him towards the door. His love for Christine came before anything else in the world – even a long-time friendship such as his and Jonty's. It was a saddening thought perhaps, but if it came down to a choice between him and Christine, Erik wouldn't need any thinking time. Truly, if he had Christine, he needed no one else… which was perhaps a pity since he was not sure he would ever have her anyway. He didn't know if he could ever convince her that the best place for her would always be with him.

"I'm sure," Jonty said dryly, letting himself get pushed by Erik.

"You're lucky I have more important things to do than argue with you," Erik said angrily as he threw the door open. "What are you trying to do to me? Do you want her to hate me?"

Jonty shook his head ruefully and pulled himself out of Erik's grasp. "Hardly… I don't want _anything_ of her."

Frustrated beyond belief, Erik was about ready to punch him, but he held back, knowing he did not need anything else on his hands too. And between gritted teeth, he said, "Get out."

"If you have any sense, you would be saying that to _her_."

Erik clenched his fists at his sides in an effort to control the ever-growing urge to hit him and gestured stiffly out the open door. "If you can't be even civil towards the woman I love – if you must go out of your way to make her feel unwanted – then you are unwelcome in this house and we are no longer friends."

Hurt that it had come to this, though he would never admit it, Jonty stared at Erik for a long moment, wishing more than anything that _she _hadn't ruined so much. And then he turned, stung by his inability to make any sort of impression upon Erik of the gravity of the situation, striding out of the house he would likely not see again.

Staying momentarily to make sure that Jonty left in his car, Erik finally closed the door and made his way upstairs, trying to ready himself to face whatever scene awaited him regarding his Christine. But what he found in his master bedroom was definitely far from expected.

"I didn't know where you kept your sheets and I didn't want to go snooping through your house so I've only made the bed as it was," she started as he opened the door, not looking at him while in the process of smoothing out a wrinkle in the top cover.

He stared at her strangely and entered the room fully, placing a hand over her shoulder to get her to look at him, though she wouldn't. "Christine…"

"If you tell me where to get them, then I'll happily remake it for you," she continued, babbling, oblivious as he tried to pull her back against himself. "Of course, if you–"

"Stop, Christine."

She sighed and let go of the pillow she was fluffing, turning wearily to face him, her shoulders sagging in her despair. "What is it?"

"Christine…" he said pointedly. "You heard me say that I love you. Don't you think we should talk about this?"

Turning away from him again, back to face the bed because she couldn't bring herself to look at him, she was having a hard time figuring out why she had stayed in his house at all after what she'd heard him say. She thought she must be totally insane for not leaving straight away… most people would have, she was sure. But then most people were not forced to have sex with their teacher and then told by the teacher in question that he loved them. She was setting somewhat of a precedent, she knew. "I think you should talk to your psychologist about this."

Putting his arms around her waist from behind, he rested his chin on the top of her head and held her tightly. "Christine…" he tried. "Darling… it is not the first time I have told you so."

"But… that was because you were trying to make me feel better during…" And she waved her hand around in the air vaguely so she would not have to finish her sentence. She had known he must have cared about her somewhat to have done everything that he did for her… but to think that he loved her – had done so all along – was too much.

Nodding though she couldn't see it, he held her more tightly and wished that he'd kept his big mouth shut. He could clearly see that it was doing her absolutely no good to have to deal with his feelings on top of her own. And truly, he didn't want her to have to worry about anything but herself just now. She was the type of person, he knew, who would do anything not to hurt someone else's feelings, even at the expense of her own, and he didn't want that at all. Still, though, he couldn't turn back now and make her believe that he hadn't meant it. If he told her that, then she'd never learn to accept that he did adore her. He couldn't imagine anything worse. "I _was _trying to make you feel better… but I was not lying. I do love you."

"Don't say that," she said softly, embarrassed, and she tried to pull away from him, though he wouldn't let her.

"What's wrong with loving you, Christine?" he asked softly, stroking his hand soothingly along her arm. "What's wrong with be _utterly_ _taken_ _with_ _you_?"

"You cannot love me," she said quietly, shaking her head, and Erik was momentarily immobilised by the intoxicating smell of her curls. It was beyond him how something as insignificant as the type of shampoo she used could fascinate him to no end. "Nobody loves _me_."

"How can you say that? I love you endlessly. Your parents loved you too, Christine, you know that. You are so sweetly-natured and… _loveable_ that I cannot understand why the whole world doesn't fall at your feet in wonder."

"Please…" she sobbed, "stop it. I can't…"

"I know it's hard," he murmured. "But it will only hurt you more to deny it from yourself… We were going to kiss before the doorbell rang… you do not deny that, do you?" he asked softly, trying to be gentle enough that she might not close in on herself. He squeezed her shoulders and was surprised when she immediately turned towards him and buried her face in his chest, starting to cry. Fighting with himself, he conceded and knew he would have to back down if it meant upsetting her like this. He couldn't force her to accept it… he would just have to be patient. "I know… it was too soon. Forgive me," he said softly, stroking her hair.

"Can I tell you something?" she asked hesitantly, when he'd already been holding her for a long time.

"You can tell me anything… you must know that." And he moved her backwards to sit on the edge of the bed together.

Swallowing to clear her throat, she fiddled with her fingers nervously and stared down at her feet. "My father once gave me a musical jewellery box…"

"What?" he asked confusedly, a bit taken aback by the unexpected change of subject.

She continued as though he hadn't spoken, looking up at him once and then back down at her hands in her lap, even as he placed his arm around her gently, conscious that she moved ever-so-slightly away from him. "It was made of mahogany and, instead of a dancing ballerina," she said sentimentally, cupping her hands to demonstrate for him. "It had a little girl with curly hair, looking into a hand-held mirror of the brightest gold. I so missed my mother and wanted to be exactly like her that he stuck her picture on the inside of the mirror. He said I always had her inside of me and I'd grow up to be the best parts of him and her together…"

"You _are_, my dear girl," he said softly, turning her around to look at him, her chin in his hand. "You will always be the best of them… I see only good in you."

Gritting her teeth in her frustration, she pushed his hand away and glared at him. "But I'm so _angry_ at you…" she snapped.

"What?" Truly, Erik had been expecting anything but that… she'd been so desolate that he hadn't expected her to become so enraged so quickly.

Slapping her palm against his chest to show him her annoyance, though she realised that it wouldn't have hurt him, she continued to glare at him even as he looked at her sadly and placed his hand on hers. "I feel so angry inside… so frustrated by everything. I am so angry _at you_. I am so grateful… but I am so angry."

"I understand," he said softly, nodding in his disappointment as he stroked her hand.

"No… you can never understand because it _didn't happen to you_! You can't feel the same way at all because you can't be angry at me – I didn't do anything to you! You can offer me your sympathies… you can even say you are sorry it happened – but it still happened and you don't understand how I feel. No one can understand that – and there is something in knowing that which makes me feel just a little better…" she said, trying to explain it to him.

He just sat there, desolate and rebuked, wishing more than anything that he'd been better at stopping her hurting, though he now seemed to realise such was an impossible task. He had failed. That was it. He hadn't made her happy.

And as he sat there gloomily, on the point of crying, himself, that he had caused her to feel such a way, he found himself being brought back from his despair by Christine, herself. "But when I'm with you," she said much more gently, confusing him again, "I don't feel ashamed of who I am."

"What?" he asked, looking at her curiously.

"Since my father died… I suppose you've realised that I've felt out of place living with Ros and Henry…" she started, pausing as she found it hard to form the words to tell him. "But I knew that I would see _you_ at school the next day and, though you wouldn't say much to me as such, I would feel better for having been near you. You have always had the ability to make me feel better."

Surprised, he looked at her with more hope, loving that he had made her feel better somehow when she'd needed it. "Tell me what you mean, Christine."

"I still need you," she whispered, though it was the hardest thing in the world to admit.

Grasping hold of her hands fiercely, he promised, "You'll _always _have me, Christine."

She nodded, knowing that it was true. While she had doubted it before, she could see that he would always be there, standing by her if she needed him. "But I also need to let go of you…"

Not liking at all where this seemed to be going, he shook his head and tried to convince her that it was better she let him do things for her and help her. It had not been long since everything had happened and he, for one, was not about to let her isolate herself from him. "There is no shame in staying near someone who cares deeply for you… it is human nature to seek out those who love us – and those we love."

"But there is a shame in staying around you when I am only making you more confused…"

"What do you mean?" he asked.

Smiling sadly through her tears, she slipped her hands out of his and looked down at the bed between them. "You only think you love me… and I am not helping matters by being around you."

"No," he said firmly. "No, I do love you. Christine, I loved you before this," he argued. "I loved you before any of this."

"How can you know that? We didn't even know each other very well. You didn't even know that my parents were dead."

"Yes, and I'm sorry about that… but, before this, you would have thought that I was prying if I asked you of your personal matters. I did not want to frighten you off, Christine…"

"What are you basing this on?" she asked sceptically.

"The way I feel in my heart every time I see you…" he answered, striving to make her believe him. There was little he could think of that he found worse than her not taking his love for her seriously. "The way my chest constricts in joy when you smile… the way I know in my very soul that I would die a thousand bloody deaths just to save you from the tiniest bit of pain…"

"That's romantic," she said slowly, shaking her head, "but it is not realistic. And right now, I need reality. I don't want a knight in shining armour or grand declarations of love that you'll have wished you never said in a few months."

Desperate that she believe him, but desolate that she couldn't right now, he tried one last time. "I have felt this way forever."

"I can't accept that… I think you're confused – because _you_ were forced too and no one can dispute that… I just think you are putting things on me – giving me values that I don't have just so it will be acceptable to you that what happened between us could have been consensual in some stretch of the imagination. I can understand that… _I do it too_," she said firmly, trying to console him. "But it's not real."

"What?"

"Because I couldn't control what went on that day to my own body… I think I try to make myself believe that it _could_ have been a consensual thing at some later point, so that I know I still have some choices left."

He had no idea how hard that was for her to admit but he was proud of her for being perceptive enough to see it, even though he couldn't agree with it being the same for him as he knew in himself how long he had been in love with her. "I won't force you to believe me today, Christine… you are still drained from what happened earlier. Get back into bed and go to sleep, I'll make you something in a little while and bring it up." He was resigned to having been defeated on this occasion, yes… but he was not about to give up when losing meant losing _her_.

"You don't have to do that… really, I'll just–"

"You'll just nothing," he reprimanded gently, urging her under the covers. "I want to find you sleeping when I come back… you need your rest – I don't doubt that you have had some trouble doing so recently."

She nodded and slipped back under the covers, watching him as he tucked her in before he left the room silently. And, while she couldn't see it, he went back downstairs, placing his hand over his mouth in despair as he began to feel sick. What on Earth was he supposed to do now?

* * *

"_Oh, my God_," Christine gasped, jerking up to a seated position in the bed. _What on earth was that about? _she wondered confusedly, thinking of the nightmare she had just awoken from. She couldn't exactly remember all of it, and as the seconds ticked away, she did find herself losing details of it. What had upset her so to make her start with such violence from a dream? In the sort of state of mind she was in upon waking, she could not truly think of what exactly had happened. And just as she was about to lie back down in frustrated exhaustion, Erik came into the room urgently, his gentleness with her giving away his concern. 

"I heard you cry out," he murmured, stroking her hair softly as he brought her against himself, sitting down next to her.

"I had the most disturbing dream," she said, trying to remember what had happened. "You were in it… and you were trying to help me… but I… I just couldn't get out," she sobbed, burying her face in his chest. "And there was this other man… he looked so much like you. He said something to me that frightened me. That's when I woke up…" And, having been thinking about it, that's when the single word the man had said to her popped back into her memory and she froze in his arms.

"Shh… shh, it's alright," he comforted, rubbing her back languidly. She was making no sense and he wished he could have done something to make her sleep undisturbed.

"Mr. Wilkes," she said in sudden seriousness, leaning back from him stiffly. "Would you take me somewhere, please?"

They had plenty of time before she was expected back… He pulled back from her slowly, disappointed that she was leaving when he had found their time together regrettably short, and nodded, though he didn't know where she wanted to go and he didn't care as he'd go with her anywhere. "Where can I take you, sweetheart, to make you happy?"

"I'd like to see my parents again… if that's al–"

Pressing a finger gently over her lips, he prevented her from saying anything further. "Don't you dare even think you need permission to go and visit their grave! I'll get everything – you come down when you are ready, my dear."

Unsurprisingly, Christine's sombre mood on the ride over there left little room for conversation between them. Regardless, Erik wanted to give her her space so that she could mourn without the distraction of other less important matters. He knew she was still grieving for them, being so young and alone, but it hurt him no less that he was incapable of taking that pain from her. She did not deserve any of what she had been through in such a short period of time…

He stopped the car by the old road up to the church, going around the car to help Christine out. And as he closed the door behind her, she stared at him with such an intensity that he felt truly connected to her. Without realising it consciously, he leaned into her, so close that she ended up pressed between him and the side of his car. Her thoughts solely on him in the current moment, she continued to stare uninterrupted into his eyes, finding herself strangely surprised that she did not find it at all embarrassing. She'd come such a long way in the passed ten days… she'd gone from being unable to have _anyone _look at her without feeling even dirtier, to wanting him to look at her more often – to feel his kindness and his care for her even in the way he looked at her, though she could not yet accept what he had said and had all but shut it out of her mind. And suddenly he drew a rose from his coat, surprising her, though it should not have, knowing him as she now did, and he whispered the delicate white bloom once down the length of her nose. Everything about her spoke of innocence, and Erik wanted her to have a token to give in memory of her parents that would match her wonderful pure character.

Reminded so easily of the last time she had found herself here with a white rose in her hand, she shivered delicately and found him chivalrously placing his coat over her shoulders without hesitation, before returning them to their pressed-together position. "Christine," he whispered, bestowing the pretty flower into her hand, finding that he was unable to stop himself from linking their fingers together around it. "My Christine…" he murmured then, stoking the hair at the side of her face delicately. She stared at him thoughtfully, and he wondered as a slight frown appeared on her beautiful face.

Still, in love though she didn't believe him, he thought about kissing her for the first time, but surely, this was not the time, nor the place. And he couldn't do that to her… she wanted to visit her parents' grave and she deserved the respect that went with such a difficult thing.

Stepping back from her, he kept hold of her hand and led her unhurriedly towards the cemetery around the other side of the chapel. "Take all the time that you need," he murmured, sadly drawing himself away from her as they reached the place he'd seen briefly in the not-too-distant past. "I won't be far. All you need ever do is call."

She nodded and soon enough he had disappeared into the trees beyond her sight. Turning back to the little plot of grass before the headstone, she hoped fervently that his only thoughts of this place would not remain of her almost frozen upon the ground, so wrought with grief that she had allowed herself to give up. She vowed never to put him through that again… he was such a kind man – so wonderful with her that she was almost at the point of hearing birdsong whenever he stepped into view. It was ridiculous.

"Daddy," she said softly, seating herself lightly on the ground. "Mummy… I suppose that it's about time I let you go," she continued mournfully, giving a slight, sad little laugh. "I had the most disturbing dream, you know… but Mr. Wilkes was there… and he made it alright. And he carried me… do you think I should stay with him?" she asked suddenly. Shaking her head, she looked back down at her fingers as she played with the rose he had given her, propping it up against the stone. "I speak to you all the time, you know… and I've never expected an answer from you before – but I suppose I've never had a dream like that before either. Do you think that I should be speaking to Erik like this instead of you?"

_What, no sign? Wasn't this standard fodder for an unexpected lightning strike or a clap of thunder? _She was being ridiculous, she knew… she just wished there were a few answers where there still were questions. "I'm finished now, Mr. Wilkes," she called softly into the clearing around her and was surprised to find that he approached her from behind – the opposite way to the one he'd gone.

"Are you alright, Christine?" She nodded and he looked her over sceptically. "You are tired… you look drained." And he picked her up in his arms, carrying her back to the car, like in her dream. Hugging her arms around his neck as he carried her easily, she looked over his shoulder at her parents' grave and nodded slightly, giving a little wave.

"I get it," she murmured to them, not caring if him carrying her was their sign or just a lovely coincidence care of the man who claimed to love her. Either way, it had been enough for her. There was nothing to be scared of so long as he was there beside her – and that was a highly welcome thought after having felt _so _helpless… but it still did not go so far as to heal the wounds she had already received.

"What was that, Christine?" Erik asked, distracted by so many thoughts.

"Nothing… I was just saying my goodbye." And she was, truly… for she now realised that it would be better for her to concentrate on him, who was living and able to be with her when she needed him, than two people she loved dearly but could never have back. It was definitely the right time to say goodbye.

Not wishing to pry into such a matter, he let it lie, and relinquished her into the seat.

"I think I'm learning to let go…" she told him, wanting to include him. And she did have to… they had come too far together – done too much not to have been changed by it. And she was now starting to let go, though there was a long road ahead.

Erik, too, was trying to let go of his fantasies of one day having her love him back… he couldn't have that part of her, he was beginning to realise. He hadn't given up hope that she would one day concede to marry him, if only for the stability and unyielding love he could give her. In fact, much as he mourned it, he felt as though she might now consider a marriage for such reasons beneficial to her – she would settle for being secure and cherished and the most important person in his world… and maybe one day she might start to care for him too. But he no longer held hope that she would love him as well… she would never look at him the way he looked at her, he would never be the centre of her universe as she was to him, and, as long as she still held such a deeply rooted feeling of shame for ever having touched him, he would never be able to have her completely.

And to let go of her mother and father, it had taken about seventeen and three years respectively… going by those statistics, something as soul-shattering as his violation of her would take her a very long time indeed. But she was worth waiting for – however long it took for her to be ready to start again with him. He just hoped she would not look elsewhere in the meanwhile.

There was something about Erik Wilkes… he just could not let go of Christine Daaé. It would be ridiculous to try – and he'd never want to. It was truly unfeasible. _Impossible_. By his very definition, he could no more get rid of her than he could his own heart. Certainly, to him, they were one and the same.

And, smiling at her as she stared out of the window, he decided that what they had together was enough in this moment, and he was content just to take the woman who was his heart home.

© Copyright of CrawfordsBiscuits, November 2006

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	14. Chapter 13: A New Perspective

**Tiochfaidh ár Lá**

**Disclaimer: **Don't own POTO… This story is rated M for subject matter not because it's really explicit.

**A/N: **Welcome back, me, I suppose. For a while there I actually thought I'd lost _all _of the writing I'd ever done because of this stupid computer… and it took me a while to get it all back and update the backups. Anyway, for those whom it may concern, I'll reply to all the emails tomorrow and I wish you all the best for all the messages I found in my inbox this morning… you all made my day. Anyway, I thought I'd fit in this update while I got the chance. And to Ripper, Mimi, and Heather… I missed talking to you all and I'm glad to be back. I know… I should update more. Happy reading…

And please leave a review…

**Chapter 13: A New Perspective…**

She'd been going to his house everyday for the past two weeks, since he'd suggested it. She hadn't said a word of it to anyone – she hadn't even told Raoul that she wouldn't be at school, and while she knew he would miss her, she didn't think he would do anything to try to see her after the way she'd treated him.

So, out of their new arrangement, Christine had gotten into the habit of leaving her aunt's house earlier than usual until she was finding herself being picked up by Mr. Wilkes at the very early time of a quarter to seven each morning. He had insisted she eat breakfast with him, and she had been glad of that – though he'd said it was only to make sure that she was eating properly, he actually just wanted her there for as long as he could get away with each day. And so far, no one had even come close to threatening the sanctuary she found with him. There had been no questions, no phone calls to her guardians, no letters, no enquiries at all… everyone just took it as fact that she had decided to take some time away from everything – and rightly so too.

Erik, meanwhile, had never dreamed that teaching could be like this… that it could feel so wonderful to have just one conscientious, sweet-hearted and bright young student to teach in his own home on a schedule that they were both comfortable with. He also could never have dreamed of the joy having lunch with her brought – or watching her read in his study while she was having a break away from the work… or even putting her to bed for a short time in the afternoon before she went home, where she could rest in peace. She was completely free from the distraction of others… and he felt good in himself that he alone had been able to provide that for her.

This particular Friday morning, as he stopped at the kerb towards the end of her street – the place they'd agreed he would pick her up each morning so that her guardians would not see her getting into his car, he found her acting even more unusually than normal. Looking in his rear-view mirror briefly to locate her there on the pavement, walking along absentmindedly, he got out of the car to help her in and was surprised to find that she jumped when she saw him and dropped her things all over the ground. Frowning slightly, he dropped to a crouched position before her and started collecting the papers and other things up, surprised to find that she suddenly snatched them away from him and placed them in her bag herself.

"Is everything alright this morning, Christine?" he asked, backing off so that she could finish it herself. She seemed embarrassed to have been so clumsy in front of him and he didn't want to make her feel worse, so he would give her space.

She nodded stiffly and stood up, awkwardly letting him help her into her side, even turning her head from him slightly as he helped her with her seatbelt, though he'd been doing that everyday. For some reason, today it seemed too intimate.

"Has someone said something to upset you?" he tried again as he got into the driver's seat and started towards his house.

She shook her head and slumped ungracefully in the seat, hugging her bag to her chest defensively. "I haven't spoken to anyone since yesterday evening… I'm just tired – I did not sleep well last night," she admitted, twisting her hands in the material of the bag.

He nodded sadly and took his hand off of the gear stick momentarily to squeeze her shoulder. "Perhaps you should sleep a while when we get home, then… your lessons can wait a couple of hours."

"If you're sure," she murmured distractedly.

And he was. Never would he put anything – even studying – before her health and happiness. Truly, she looked haggard, he thought, as though she really had been having a time of it trying to do something as simple as rest herself, which he found strange as she always seemed able to do so in the afternoons at his house. Now he wondered if she slept then because she was not managing to do so at her aunt's house – he'd never thought of that before… he didn't realise that it was because she was so tired from lack of sleep that he often found her dozing in his lounge and had to put her to bed for a couple of hours. He was more worried than ever now… if all she was getting for a night's sleep was a couple of hours at his house then she was going to make herself sick.

Bringing the car to a stop in his driveway, he helped Christine out as she yawned and, in her fatigue, relinquished her bag over to him for him to carry. He pointed to the front door as he closed the car door behind her and gestured that she go in ahead of him as he made to go to the boot of the car for something. "Go straight to bed," he commanded sternly. "I'll be in shortly and I want to be able to come up those stairs to the bedroom in darkness and find Christine Daaé asleep in the bed. Will you do that for me?"

"But I don't have a key…" she said, gesturing helplessly to the door she imagined was locked several metres ahead of her.

"Oh…" He hadn't thought of that… but now that it came to it, it brought up something else that he thought might be a good idea to do. "Here," he said as he handed her his house keys.

"Thank you." Going ahead of him, slightly hesitant to just go into his house on her own though she didn't know why, she opened the door and took her first step inside. It was strange… usually, when he went in before her, she felt nothing out of the ordinary… But this time, she looked around the dark entrance of his home, standing still, staring up the stairs… and everything seemed different to her. Perhaps it was the way she had been feeling this last little while… she felt kind of out of sorts what with the stress of her situation and knowing she still had to pass exams when it came to it. She felt pressured to go back to the school before she was ready so that there was no chance of Mr. Wilkes getting in trouble over her – not that he would even allow her to think for a second that it was her responsibility, providing he knew. But she was keeping a lot of things to herself at the minute, it would seem…

Regardless, looking up the stairs, Christine felt like the place seemed more… _homey_, than usual. Yes, it was dark, and while the antique banister leading steeply up to more darkness would not seem inviting to most, she was starting to see it in more of a welcoming light. While this place had been her substitute school for just two weeks and her saviour's home alone before that – the place where he'd brought her for just one night when she'd been inconsolable… and the place where he now brought her to both learn and to escape… While it was all of these things… it was also home, she found. And though he'd been telling her that for ages, it had only just now suddenly clicked in her own mind. She did not know why.

"I thought I told you to go to bed," Erik murmured, placing a hand upon her shoulder as he came in the door behind her and put all of the bags on the floor to his side.

"I was just thinking…"

"Is something on your mind, Christine?" he asked, wishing she would tell him. "Because I want you to know that you can tell me anything… even if it's just something small that is in the back of your mind and you want to talk to someone, or if it's something bigger that you're worried about and don't know what to do. I am here to listen to anything you'd care to tell me, my dear… you can come to me anytime – for _anything_."

It was more than kind of him to open himself to her like that, but she couldn't deal with that just yet and she gave a vague nod that he couldn't really see from behind her, merely watching as she started her way up the stairs to his bedroom.

Making a snap decision, he followed her and pushed open the door that she'd shut over, unconsciously glad that she'd just gone up by herself instead of having to be led and assured continuously that it was alright for her to take advantage of his hospitality. But at the same time, there was a niggling little feeling in the back of his mind that there was something big bothering her that she was either not willing or unable to tell him – and that worried him immensely.

Kicking off her shoes, she stared at him curiously as he sat down on the bed beside her, and was just about to say something when he pursed his lips thoughtfully and turned to look at her, taking her hand in his. "When I was your age," he started, stroking his thumb across the back of her hand, "there were these girls in my class… I forget their names – for the sake of the story, we shall call them Witless and Oats-for-Brains." He paused a moment, smiling as he had made his Christine laugh, and tried to get over how sweet she was just to have the concentration to continue.

"Well, neither liked me very much – nobody in actual fact liked me very much – but these two had it in for me for some reason, though I'd never done anything to them. One day, Oats-for-Brains was rather annoyed at me for having garnered more attention from our Chemistry teacher because I had gotten full marks in a test, or something trivial like that. She liked him, you see – obviously, it was a fleeting fancy, but she decided to get back at me for it, regardless. Looking back, it's funny that I didn't see it coming…" he laughed, though not whole-heartedly, in a sadly reminiscent way. "Witless was used to distract me – she eventually convinced me that she wanted to learn how to sing, gullible fool that I was. I would have listened to anyone, Christine, who showed me a bit of compassion," he said sadly, seeing that she understood him from the clarity with which she was looking into his eyes. "Unlike you, she showed it falsely to get something in return and I was mortified one day to find that as I got lost in my music, showing Witless what it was like to freely express myself in my song, Oats-for-Brains had gathered a group around me. And right as I opened my eyes and became aware of them, she snatched my mask away. I felt such shame…"

She looked at him sympathetically, unable to say that she really understood what he was trying to tell her, and tried not to sound too harsh as she asked him. "Why are you telling me this?"

Smiling sorrowfully, he turned to face her fully, bringing her other hand together with the one he already held. "Because I want to confide in you and I _know_ I can trust you. I want you to feel the same way about me…"

"I'm sorry…" she murmured, trying to stop her bottom lip from quivering. "Trust is not a concept I'm good with at the minute."

"All I'm saying, my dear girl, is that – when Oats-for-Brains did that to me… when I cried that night, nobody was there to listen. But, with you – with you it is so much different – when _you_ cry, _I_ listen. I hear it here," he said sincerely, placing their collective hands over his heart.

"Do you hear it now?" she asked tentatively, moved beyond saying by what he'd told her willingly. He looked at her as though he didn't understand and she smiled softly. "I guess not… but I feel as though I'm crying on the inside."

As she started to sob in actuality, he pulled her against himself and hugged her, letting her cry. "I heard it, Christine… I heard it though I didn't know what it was. I knew you were in pain. I want you to talk to me about these things."

She could not find it within herself to have the courage to tell him of the shame she felt as he had told her – the wound was simply too fresh – and instead he found her slowly drifting off in his arms, exhausted further from her grief.

* * *

He didn't wake her until early evening that day, preferring she catch up on her sleep and be refreshed for the next day than have done the work but have taken none of it in because of her fatigue. It wouldn't be long before she had to go back home again and he wanted her to eat first, so he roused her gently from her slumber, marvelling at the precious blue eyes that stared up at him.

"Is it time for our morning lessons now?" she asked innocently, and he wanted to be able to tell her that it was, if only to spend more time with her… but he could not.

"No… no, sweetheart, it's time for you to eat before I take you back."

"But…"

"Shh… don't be upset. I did what was best for you… you were exhausted and I thought sleep would do you more good than work."

"But I have exams," she said helplessly, though that was not what was bothering her at all… in actual fact, she was disappointed that the only time she'd been able to spend with him had been in the car on the way over.

"And we'll get through them together," he reassured. "Your health is more important…"

Nodding, she lowered her head and closed her eyes. "I just thought I'd have more time before I'd have to go back _there_… alone."

When she had worked up enough energy, she let him help her sit up and then, as she slid off the bed, something pointed jabbed her in the leg and she yelped slightly, more out of surprise than actual physical pain. Standing up, she realised she'd sat on his keys, obviously having forgotten to give them back to him. Her little squeal, needless to say, had somewhat startled him and, having assured him she was alright, she tried to hand him back the keys, finding instead that he pushed them back towards her.

"I want you to have those. I have others… I want you to have a way to get in here if you ever need it, regardless of where I am."

"I wouldn't feel right just walking in like I owned the place… I can't do that," she said, overwhelmed that he would offer her such a thing. It meant a lot to her that he trusted her enough to want her to be able to enter his house even when he was not there. And though she knew that she didn't exactly seem the type to steal, she was happy anyway that he hadn't for a moment thought that of her.

"Take them. Should the need ever arise, they will always be there. Should it never arise," he said gently, "at least you will have given me peace of mind."

She nodded gratefully and looked down at them, finally placing them inside her pocket. "I suppose I'd better hurry up… it won't be long until I have to go," she said disappointedly.

Equally disappointed, Erik nodded solemnly and squeezed her shoulder to try to comfort them both. "I'm sorry, Christine – I would far rather you were able to stay longer so we could spend some time together… but I have to get you home so that your guardians will not suspect."

"They rarely check on me," Christine offered, looking up at him nervously, though she had no idea why she was telling him that. "Sometimes, what with eating in my room and leaving before they get up, I don't see any of them for days at a time…"

"Really?" he asked, and while he was upset that she spent so much time isolated, he couldn't help but think that she was probably benefiting from their absence. Still, he knew he would have to do something about the absence of other people's influences from her life… "Would you like to spend the night, Christine?" _My God, what am I even asking her?_

"Stay?" she questioned, surprised, though, somewhere in her mind she wondered if she had been hoping he would say that all along. After all, hadn't she been the one to supply the information that she would unlikely be missed. "You'd allow me to stay here overnight?"

He nodded and smiled at the awe with which she seemed to observe all of his kindness towards her. She was an amusing little enigma, he found – he would never have even suggested she stay overnight if she hadn't told him what she just had and here she was, surprised about it. He found her delightful. "Why do you find that so incredible?"

"Won't I be intruding?"

"Intruding upon what?" he asked, looking around the otherwise empty room for emphasis. "Upon my night alone… having a sparse meal for one… preparing some things for your impending arrival on Monday morning, which is _so _long away, might I add… looking forward to the moment I can teach you again? If you think you would be intruding upon all that then I am quite willing to correct you…"

"I'd like to stay, Erik," she said softly, surprising him. How he liked it when she called him that, though usually only ever of her own choice and not when he'd asked her to, he noticed. She was defiant in her own way, his darling girl. It intrigued him. "But tomorrow's Saturday…" she said after a while, seemingly having forgotten.

"Don't worry… I'll have you back before they're up."

"Thank you," she said. And while she didn't feel particularly comfortable with it, she still felt she had to show her gratitude, and she leaned into him, giving him a stiff and awkward sort of hug. But considering that the only hugs he had ever received were from Christine, Erik wasn't too worried – he was too busy savouring her conscious decision to hug him – to touch him.

* * *

Later that night, Erik again stood in his bedroom with Christine, having lain out a nightdress and dressing gown for her to use overnight. And yet, as she looked at them, she hesitated a moment and wrung her hands in front of her, seeming not to notice, and he became confused.

"Do you require something I have not provided you with?" he asked, unsure of himself as she stared back at him. Was there perhaps something embarrassing, but necessary, that he did not know of and had not given her? Was she too mortified to tell him of his failure? How could he have ever have thought that he could provide for her?

"It's just that… I'm not sleepy since I slept the day away."

"Oh." He felt himself take in a breath that he'd been delaying, just knowing that he'd forgotten something, and he relaxed a bit momentarily because she simply was not tired. Having expected her to still need to catch up on her sleep, though, he was a bit surprised to find that she didn't quite need to yet, and he felt at a loss for how to entertain her until she did. "Well, in that case, you are welcome to stay up… what would you like to do?"

"No, I couldn't… you go to bed – you must be tired."

"Not in the slightest…" There was no way in the world that he'd ever pass up on a chance to spend time with her, certainly not for sleep. "Tell me what you do at night when you can't sleep," he suggested and then tried to take it back as he saw the look on her face turn to one of sorrow. "No, forget that. Tell me what we could do this night – just us… anything that you want."

"You're going to think I sound childish…"

He looked at her, standing there, wringing the front of her clothes nervously, and looking at him with such eagerness that he could not imagine a second in her life when she did not seem childlike. "Not at all… I will do my best to make what you want happen."

"When Daddy was alive, we used to watch scary films late at night, with no lights on, the curtains shut, huddled together on the sofa under a pile of blankets…"

"Then that's what we'll do," he said, smiling at the thought of her under his arm, clinging to him when she got a fright. That only strengthened his resolve and he got excited about spending this time with her, without having the pretence of work or something else lingering over them both. "I'll be waiting for you downstairs when you are ready," he said eagerly and left her to get changed.

When Christine joined him, sitting on the sofa next to him as she curled her feet up under herself and wrapped the blanket over her shoulders, Erik at last felt as though he was getting somewhere with her. Slowly, yes, but at least they had gotten past the point where she was disgusted even seeing him. And while he did not like her denying to herself that he had expressed his love for her, he was willing to let it go for her sake, if just for the moment.

It took a while for her to relax, but he found that, halfway into the film they had decided to watch, she repositioned herself closer to him and leaned against him, not objecting to him placing his blanket over both of them. He watched her more than the film and he very much liked as she gathered herself under his arm and leaned on his chest. He wished every night could be like this one.

"When would you like me to take you back in the morning?" he asked softly when the film was finished, afraid of destroying the atmosphere.

"They don't usually get up till late on a Saturday…" Christine murmured against his chest. And then sat up abruptly and he felt a great loss inside himself. She looked at him shyly and stumbled over her own words as she tried to ask him to do something for her. "Could you… do you think you could…"

"What is it, Christine? Please tell me."

She took a deep breath and said it as fast as she could in the hopes that he would just agree and not make a big deal out of it. "Do you think you could take me somewhere first?"

He smiled at her shyness fondly and nodded. "Of course," he answered, relieved that that was all it was – she was just hesitant to ask him to do something further for her. "Where would you like to go, my dear?" he asked as he helped her up off the sofa, smiling as she yawned, and led her to the bottom of the stairs.

She turned back around to face him, standing on the step above him. "Just down town… I'd like to go to a shop before I go home and I have no other way of getting there except walking, which would take me too long…"

"I'd be glad to take you."

There was no doubting his sincerity and she was ever glad that he was so willing to do these little things for her. "You're a very good man," she said at last, the sentence carrying perhaps too much weight for the context it was in. "If Witless could see you as I do… she would have distracted you not with the intention of hurting you – but with the intention of winning your favour honestly and perpetually." And she left him there on the bottom stair, staring helplessly up at her as she disappeared into his bedroom, the door swinging over behind her.

© Copyright of CrawfordsBiscuits, November 2006

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	15. Chapter 14: Peace

**Tiochfaidh ár Lá**

**Disclaimer: **Don't own POTO… This story is rated M for subject matter not because it's really explicit.

**A/N: **Welcome back, me, again. Thank you to everyone who reviewed and to those who sent me a message and prodded just a little for an update. I had meant to update this ages ago and I'm sorry about that. In fact, it was so long ago that I can barely remember what went on in this chapter or the last one or so on… Happy reading… well, that is, mildly nostalgic, somewhat depressing reading for the most part…

And please leave a review…

**Chapter 14: Peace Comes from the Oddest of Places…**

With the coming of morning the next day, Erik found Christine awake and refreshed, waiting for him in the kitchen so that they could have breakfast together. And he smiled at her as she went about making him tea and something to eat. He found it mesmerising to watch – never had anybody before tried to take care of him and he thought it was precious coming from her, when she was the one of the two of them that most people would think needed to be fussed over. He would so happily have done the fussing too, but he was not about to interrupt the domestic display in front of him.

Then, after breakfast, he did as he had promised her and they both headed off to the shopping centre down town that she'd asked to go to. Eventually, stopping the car by the side of the street, Erik turned to Christine and fished in his pocket. "How much do you need?"

"What?" She was mortified and had to look away from him, shaking her head. It hadn't occurred to her that she would need money with which to buy the things that she wanted – it didn't occur to her at all that she didn't have any and that he would be her only source if she dared ask him. It did however occur to her that she should be very ashamed that she needed him to do this. "I would never ask you for money." How could the morning that had been so perfect now be so difficult?

Erik frowned softly at her as he constantly wished that she would just accept him and his devotion with open arms. "I know you don't have any on you," he said, pulling her hand gently towards him as he deposited some cash on her palm and wrapped her fingers tightly around it. He didn't intend to let go of her hand until he was sure she would accept it.

"How can you know that?"

"I know you don't have a job and, unless I'm terribly mistaken, I doubt you are given any by your guardians… that leaves only what you have saved up yourself. And considering the last time you were able to save any money up was probably about three years ago before you came to live where you are now, I'd say that you probably don't have any of your savings left. How do intend to pay for what you need if you won't let me help you?"

She felt ashamed to be so useless and lowered her head. "I will pay you back, I promise," she said softly, and Erik felt sorry for her. He hadn't meant to make her uncomfortable with his offer. All he had ever meant was to provide for her.

He shook his head and pushed her hand gently back towards her, watching as she put the money in her pocket. "There is no need for that."

"I don't want you to always have to be stuck watching out for me," she admitted, removing her seatbelt and turning in her seat until she sat facing him fully. "I want to make you proud of me one day. I'm going to finish my exams, get a place at university, find a job and move away from my aunt's. I'll have my own little flat and my own life… with room for a cat." She laughed briefly, shaking her head and looked down at her hands in her lap. "I'll be self-reliant… that's all I want. And you'll never have to set eyes on me again."

"That's not what I want, Christine." He couldn't understand why she was telling him this. Had he not, over and over again, proven to her that he would do whatever it took – go that extra distance – just to keep her presence in his life?

"Well… I _would_ like it if you did perhaps… come to visit me once in a while," she said, laughing softly in her embarrassment. She couldn't really come right out and tell him that she didn't know what she'd do if she could not talk to him – could not confide in him… she couldn't just say to him that life would be so useless without him there.

"Just you try to keep me away," he smiled, lifting his hand to tentatively touch a couple of fingers to her cheek. "I told you once that you'd be stuck with me to eternity…" Pausing for a moment, he held his breath and then decided he would likely never get such a clear opportunity again, knowing that if he didn't ask now, he probably wouldn't ask ever. "What are you doing this weekend, Christine?"

She looked at him curiously and shook her head, not wholly understanding his reasons for asking her something like that. Yes, he had been there for her over and over again… but at the weekend? She wasn't sure what that meant. "Oh, I'm not sure… probably nothing. Why?"

"Would you mind… if I took you out sometime, Christine?" he asked, resigning himself to await her reaction, whatever it might be. If she was disgusted, he would never mention it again and let it eat away at him for the rest of his life… but if there was even the slightest of chances that she was willing, then he could not live with himself if he did not find out.

"Took me out?" Was he asking her this because he felt a certain sort of pity towards her for having to live with the kind of people that she did? If she wanted to go with him, would he think her pathetic? That she really was useless?

"Yes… wherever you want. I worry about you when you're not with me," he admitted, taking her hand into both of his, holding it in between them. "I'd like to see you at the weekends."

Nodding solemnly, she gave him a fragile smile and lowered her head. Was he asking her just to spend time with him as a friend? From what she knew, he didn't have many friends and she wondered if he was trying to forge a relationship between them because of their mutual pain so that he might not be so lonely. But Christine was only seventeen and had never been an overly confident teenager at that – Raoul had been her first boyfriend and it had been a terribly superficial sort of relationship… she could not claim to have feelings for him that were rooted as deeply inside of her as she felt the butterflies every time _this_ man touched her. Yet, thinking of Raoul, she knew he didn't deserve this sort of betrayal – yes, she didn't know of Mr. Wilkes' intentions, but surely, to be fair to Raoul, she should turn him down and think nothing more of it.

But she knew she couldn't do that either… something told her that if she told Mr. Wilkes that she didn't think that was appropriate, he would become every bit the professional teacher again just to please her – and she did not want that at all. What was she without his friendship? "I want to see the stars."

Erik studied her a moment and then wrinkled his nose in thought. He couldn't say that that answer had made much sense to him. "What?" He wasn't sure he had heard her correctly, so focused had he been on her probable rejection of him.

She blinked away a few untimely tears in her eyes and smiled. Maybe he had just wanted to be a friend to her after all – she was happy about that. It meant for less heartache this way and she could try to start thinking of his as her best friend first and foremost so that she might not be as uncomfortable around him. "All of this artificial light… I haven't seen the stars in longer than I can remember."

He nodded, happy that they were getting somewhere now. "I want nothing more than to give the stars to you, Christine," he said eagerly.

"Well… I should probably show my face to Aunt Ros before the morning's through… see if she's noticed I slept somewhere else last night, that sort of thing. And there is something I want to do before it gets too late – I suppose it will have to be dark for us to see the stars anyway, so if you're not busy tonight…" Trailing off, she watched his expression of excitement and tried to work out why exactly he was so eager not to be rid of her at the first opportunity. Surely, having spent all week with her and all last night and this morning, he would not want to spend any more time in her company without at least the weekend's break. But, seemingly, he did… and she would be a fool not to cling to the feeling of being wanted.

"I'll pick you up when it starts getting dark… it will take us a while to get into the countryside and by then it should be fine. Would you have dinner with me, Christine?"

"Dinner? At night? In the countryside?"

He nodded and turned to look back out the front window for a moment as he spoke. "Yes… I know it won't be fancy. And it would have to be in my car as I won't have you sitting outside in the cold at night, trying to eat. We could watch the stars for a while and then we could have something to eat and relax a bit before I take you back."

"I'd love to," she'd said before her conscious mind had a chance to process what he had suggested. And truly, if Raoul had suggested such a thing, or anybody else for that matter, she knew she would have assumed they wanted more than just her company. But yet, as she was sitting here in his car, looking into the sincere and hopeful eyes of the man she found herself missing when he was not around, she couldn't help but want to go and she knew, beyond any doubt, that he would not try anything… certainly not. It was a wonderful feeling, she found… to feel safe with someone – to feel cherished, completely the opposite of being taken for granted.

Erik, at the same time, hoped that he wasn't coming on too strongly – he had absolutely no experience in this field and he was relying heavily on what he thought she would like as opposed to anything he should and didn't know about asking her to spend time with him. He was concerned that he had just made their little moonlight picnic, as he liked to imagine it, sound like some sort of cheap excursion into the countryside in the hopes that she might like him enough to do something. How he hoped she had not had _that _impression when he'd suggested it. And, he supposed, she must not have, otherwise she wouldn't have agreed.

Still, true to his character, he was worried something would go wrong, and true to Christine's character, she worried that something would happen that would cloud her view of the man she knew as her hero. But, as it happened, they were both glad they'd had this little talk… even if it did raise more questions than it had answered.

"I'd better get going…" she said after a while of both of them lost in their own thoughts. It would not do to be late home and get found out before any of this had time to come into fruition.

"Of course."

Hesitating, she eventually leaned forward and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, disappearing out of the door before he could blink. "I love you, Christine," he whispered sentimentally to no one, placing his hand wonderingly against his cheek, and he slumped down in his seat to await his beloved's return from the shop.

* * *

Humming softly to herself, though she was unsure of how she could be so light-hearted at the current moment, given what she was about to do, Christine approached her aunt's house. Mr. Wilkes had just dropped her off outside – he was still there in fact, sitting in his car, watching to make sure that she got in alright. Now, as she put her key in the door, she turned back to look at him once more and, without ever meaning to consciously, she ended up blowing him a kiss and waving to him before entering the house and closing the door behind her as quietly as she could.

Outside, Erik tried to collect himself as his heart fluttered from her gesture. He'd never envisioned receiving that sort of gesture from her – she was so beautiful and she'd actually blown _him_ a kiss! She'd given him more in the last day than he had ever received in his whole life, in fact.

Meanwhile, Christine leaned back against the inside of the door heavily. She couldn't believe she'd just done that… that wasn't the sort of gesture one gave to their teacher without it meaning something else. Mentally kicking herself for giving him false hope, she moved forward up the stairs slowly so that her presence downstairs in the clothes she had worn yesterday might not be noticed. None of them should be up anyway – not on a Saturday – and the quiet of the house only strengthened that notion.

Sighing heavily, relieved to be in safe territory again inside her bedroom, she threw her coat over a chair and sat on her bed. This was where it got difficult… she had a whole day to get through without him near her, and though she couldn't see it, she was finding that harder and harder. At least, in _his_ house, she felt like she belonged – he often said it would just be space without her there… but here – _here_, she felt surplus to requirements… she felt like a spare part which kept getting in the way.

* * *

"Where have you been, Christine?"

Nearly jumping out of her skin, the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end and she almost dropped the bag she was holding in front of herself as her aunt came up behind her unexpectedly in her own room. "What? I've been up here all day…" she tried, knowing that the wording of that had been true even if it was not precisely what Ros had meant.

"I know that. I'm talking about last night…"

Averting her eyes guiltily, Christine put the bag slowly on the bed and wrung her hands, waiting for her punishment. She didn't know how the woman had found out but she still felt like she should just be allowed to die in the pain of it all. If people knew about last night, they would ask questions – questions she couldn't answer without getting someone into trouble – someone who did not deserve that kind of thing. She couldn't say anything or it would be worse than anything anybody could do otherwise.

"You're grounded until you tell me where you were," Ros said finally, when it was clear that Christine was not about to say anything. Of course, this would not be the end… Ros _would_ find out – she had that way about her. Secrets did not stay secrets for long in this house. "And I'm taking your mobile phone off of you…" Which she promptly did, turning it off and putting it in her pocket…

And all Christine could think of was that she _had_ to see the stars with Mr. Wilkes tonight, irrespective of whether she had permission or not… How would she even let him know that she couldn't come now that she had no way of contacting him? She suddenly felt wholly and frighteningly alone again. She was so obviously nothing without him… she was worth so little that, standing by herself, she quite possibly was not even worthy of existing.

But she also didn't think telling her aunt that she'd spent the night in the arms of a man who was not only a lot older than her but was also her teacher for one, her fellow victim for another, and the man who professed unabashedly to love her just to top it all off, would provoke much in the way of leniency. So she kept her mouth shut and her head bowed as her aunt left the room.

* * *

"Hello?" Erik said. He'd been just about out the door to go and get Christine when the phone had rung and he'd decided after looking at his watch that he had a minute to see who it was, in case it was her. He was actually a bit late already as it had gotten darker much earlier than he'd expected… but it would be stupid to just walk out the door if he could speak to her for a moment first and assure her that he was coming.

"Hi, Erik – it's William… do you have a moment?"

Placing his hand over the mouthpiece so that the headmaster of the school he worked in wouldn't hear him sigh, he suddenly felt stupid for answering the phone and sat down in the chair next to it heavily. "I suppose." Technically, he did not have a moment to spare – _technically_, he was into borrowed moments as it was… but technically didn't seem to come into it right now where the source of his income was concerned.

"Look, I know it's a Saturday and you're probably busy, but this is the first time I've been able to get a hold of you," William started. He was sure already that he would not enjoy this conversation… it was not a particularly pleasant subject to discuss with anyone in his employ – it was extra difficult with this man.

Erik nodded tiredly, just wishing that he would get to the point. "It's alright… what do you want?" People he didn't like very much had this awful habit of stumbling over their words slowly and never getting to the actual reason they were speaking to him.

"It's about your leave of absence…" William began ominously.

Erik sighed. He hoped they were not going to start all of this again. "I was… on my way out, you know, William. Can't this–"

"It's important," William said quickly, cutting him off. "The Board of Governors are meeting tonight to discuss your future at the school… I think you should be there if you want to keep your job."

Tired of all the discussions – tired of being persecuted for being the only one brave enough to ensure that the woman he loved was not violently assaulted by someone she would spend the rest of her life hating and fearing, he suddenly couldn't care if they wanted rid of him. Perhaps he'd take voluntary early retirement and go wherever Christine, and her university course, took him. "What good will being there do when they obviously already have it in for me?"

"They might listen if you explained your actions… why you thought it necessary to do what you did."

"Why I thought it _necessary_ to do what I did?" Erik asked. "She was going to be raped, you insensitive idiot! She was about to be raped by some disgusting, cruel bastard who would have hurt her and not cared in the least! I _know_ Christine, and thought it would be far better _for her_ not to have to remember that beast having been anywhere near her. I thought it far better for her to remember it having been with someone who cared for her and would support her afterwards as she grieved. But do forgive me for thinking she deserved more than being forced into that situation in front of everyone without another to go through it with her and comfort her!"

William shook his head needlessly as Erik couldn't see it, having not wished in any way to have offended him as he seemed to have. "Erik… it wasn't my intention to upset you… I only wished to warn you about tonight."

"Well, I can't go anyway – I am otherwise engaged tonight, it being the weekend and all. Thank you for calling." And he hung up, kicking himself as he realised he'd been talking for far longer than he'd meant to. It had long since gone dark and Christine would already be waiting for him, he knew, deciding that he should call her first to tell her he had been delayed so she would not worry or think he had forgotten.

Picking up the phone again, he dialled her number and waited for it to ring, but instead found himself listening to a recorded message telling him that the person he was trying to reach was not available and to try again later. So he frowned and decided he would try again from the phone in the car as he made his way over to see her. It was peculiar for her to have her phone off when she knew that he liked to be able to reach her. He hoped it was just something wrong with the network service…

And when he couldn't reach her on the car phone on his way over there, though he kept redialling until he had gotten to the place she lived, parking across the street, he promptly and worriedly got out of his car and made his way inconspicuously to the back of her house, ready to beg for forgiveness. He had asked her if he could take her out for the evening and then he'd not turned up… that had to be the worst start to their first evening going out together that he could ever have imagined.

Looking around the back garden where she had said she'd wait for him, he found her absent and kicked himself again, thinking that she'd given up on him after it had become dark and had gone back inside. So he looked up at the house and, a bit annoyed that there were obviously people downstairs because the lights were on, he tried to think of the best way to get up to her room without anyone seeing him.

Making light work of unlocking the back door, he slowly slipped inside, grateful that there was no one in the entrance hall where the stairs were. He took one moment to stare at the backs of the heads of the three people sitting on the sofa in the lounge, and then silently crept up the stairs and towards her room at the back.

Relieved to have made it there unnoticed, he pushed the door open happily, not knocking in case he alerted the rest of them to his presence in the house. And he entered the room quietly, finding her sitting at her desk with her back to him. "Darling," he whispered, and she gasped, whirling around to face him.

It was clear that she had been crying – heavily, by the looks of it – and he felt ever the fool for having caused such grief in her. If only he'd been on time and not made her think that he wasn't coming – how he regretted having made her feel that way – and he knelt on the ground in front of her chair, taking her hands into his. "_Oh_… don't cry. Please, Christine, I cannot bear it," he said honestly, tears starting to come to his own eyes as he looked at her.

Christine, meanwhile, was very much in a daze of some sort… even as he wrapped his arms around her waist, she was unable to fully register that he was there. She felt _so _desolate. She felt _so _weird… truly bizarre, in fact. She felt like she was even more of an outcast than she, herself, had ever realised. She felt ridiculous and awkward… perpetually disgusted with herself. Sitting there alone since that morning, she had done a lot of thinking… and worrying… and crying… and dreading… and she'd found something out about herself that she really wished she hadn't. She knew that what had happened between them was not her fault… and, while she blamed herself for certain aspects of it, she did not understand why she regarded this new development as her own fault… like she could have prevented it. The truth was, though, she _could_ have… if only she'd done things differently – if only she'd been less of a coward. She couldn't face trying to explain herself to Mr. Wilkes either – she couldn't face it at all… better she just fade out of his life like a shadow. He deserved better… better than _her_.

Silent and afraid, she had sat there for hours, staring at little more than nothing on her wall and playing endlessly with the spilt bottle of pills on the table in front of her, crying as she was, in her own room with the light off and nothing but her destructive mind to keep her company. Sleeping pills – no less than twenty… she had counted them over and over again religiously for the last hour – and how she longed for the sleep that they would ultimately bring. But something had stayed her hand, and she had hesitated… could she ever have done this? Could she ever really have ended her own life? Had someone asked her that all just a few weeks ago, she would have refused even the mere suggestion as an abomination – it was unthinkable – things could never get _that_ bad, she would have argued. But they had, and she did now allow the contemplation of ridding everyone else of the nuisance that was Christine Daaé.

So what had and _was_ stopping her? She could quite easily tell Mr. Wilkes that she no longer wished to go out and that she would rather he left… he would, she knew – he would do most anything to make her happy. And she could convince him to leave, and that would be it… but she didn't.

Certainly, it was not care for her own sake… she could never be _that _concerned for herself. And it was not fear of what she would be giving up as she had already convinced herself that there was so little _to_ give up.

It was not for Mr. Wilkes either, darling that he was – if anything, she had convinced herself that she would be doing him a favour by ending her own life and giving him the option of not continuing to have to coddle her anymore.

So, what was it for?

It was for his baby, she knew, probably having known all along deep in her heart. It wasn't for _him_… it was for the child of his that she had conceived. The one she loved with all her heart and could not believe she had ever lived without. The one she would give birth to in a little over eight months and would cherish for the rest of her life. The baby she would move mountains for and fight tooth-and-nail to protect. The one that would be half Christine Daaé and half Erik Wilkes. The one she would hold such an unconditional love for, not just because it would be her own child, but because of who its father was and what he'd done for her.

Before he'd arrived, she'd been fiddling with the positive plastic test in her hands until she could no longer remember how long it had been since she'd taken it. She knew she had done so just after her aunt had left the room, having bought the test at the shops that morning with the money Erik had given her. She had no idea how she'd been able to keep so calm and indifferent up until that moment. It was like she had disassociated it from herself somehow.

And she laughed, startling her teacher, though she didn't mean to. She could just imagine his baby – it would be quite the little handful… mischievous and sharp, with the playful smile of its father, and its eyes would dance as his did when he was particularly pleased with himself. She could imagine him passing on his long, proud nose, and his high forehead and fine, dark hair. She could remember exactly what it had felt like to the touch when she'd held onto him at the school – it had been a way of distracting herself, stroking his hair, from what had been going on beneath her eye-level.

She would live – for their child.

She knew somewhere inside her that, if the test had been negative, there would no longer be twenty pills sitting relatively harmlessly on the table in front of her, and there would no longer be a Christine Daaé sitting at that table in relative safety. She knew somewhere inside that his baby was the only reason she decided she had the strength to face another day – it was the only thing that made her problems seem surmountable. Which was an odd way to look at things… for most teenage girls, this would be the final straw that would push them over the edge – but, for her, it was a saving grace… something that made the world seem not quite as cruel as it had previously appeared. There was some good. She could now see with a certain light.

Hours and hours after she had taken the test, she had finally stood up, wrapping the little test that had saved her life in some tissues and had placed it in her locked jewellery box, where she kept all of her little reminders of good times. It would be safe there.

She finally felt peaceful, though she'd cried herself silly, and she knew she must look a state. But she wasn't unhappy… she knew what she would do and where she was going and what would happen – she could be in control again. She would apply for compensation as a victim of crime and she would use the money to leave her aunt's house and set up a home somewhere else where she would raise her baby – somewhere people would not recognise her or judge her. She could be free at last.

So much into her daydream of a happily-ever-after fairytale was she, that it was with much shock that she registered the almost angry voice coming from the man holding her, his face now turned towards the table, his cheek pressed against her stomach as his eyes rested on the bottle of pills.

"How many have you taken?"

© Copyright of CrawfordsBiscuits, November 2006

Well done to those who knew, though I hardly kept it a secret, haha. Anyway, I hope to get the next chapter up soon. I know this one has to be edited a bit but I thought it better to get something up as fast as possible…

Please leave a review…


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